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204 Jortign €orrcsponi)cnft. For the Southern Literary Gazette, i LETTERS FROM SCOTLAND-NO. 4, Inver ary, Count]) Argyle , ) August 21st, 1848. j My dear R. —My last letter was dated at the little stone Inn of Rowerdennen, and I designed to prepare another letter at that point, embracing my observations in its im mediate vicinity. I did not do so, however, because we left the Inn very early in the morning, and our excursion of the previous day was not completed until sun-down, and I was too much fatigued to devote any part of the night to letter-writing. It remains, there fore, to make this letter retrospective, and to look back upon Loch Lomond and its majes tic surroundings. Geographically described, this beautiful lake lies between the Counties Sterling and Dunbarton. It is much the largest body of water in Great Britain—extending in length nearly 25 miles. Itß peculiar triangular shape, however, gives it continual variation of width. At the base of the triangle, a few miles north of Dumbarton, it is, at least, eight miles ; while in the vicinity of “ mine inn” its breadth scarcely exceeds a mile and a half. At Ardleesh, its northern extremity, it is still narrower. Its narrow portion is characterized by peculiarly wild and roman tic scenery. It is sentinelled by lofty and rugged hills, and to some extent the vicinity may be called dreary. The lower portion of the Loch exhibits features of far greater beauty, composed of lovely glens thickly wooded, and dotted with beautiful country seats. while on its southern margin is a gen tly undulating country in a high state of cul tivation. The day after our arrival at Rowerdennen dawned with the promise of all the beauty we could desire, even as tourists in the “ en chanted land” of the Scottish Highlands —a region of wonderful natural attractions—but far more endeared to the visitor by the thou sand associations that the genius of Scott has woven about them. But I was saying that the day was lovely in its dawn, and with an alacrity that would have been a virtue in other circumstances, our party left their com fortable beds, and assembled for an early breakfast preparatory to the ascent of Ben Lomond. I will not tantalize you with a description of our repast, further than to state that the principal dish was of lake trout, so famous for its sweetness and delicacy, and to which I certainly did ample justice. All the ponies—four in number —which the Inn could furnish, were put into requisi tion for the ladies of our party, and the gen tlemen having put on good stout hob-nailed shoes which we had provided ourselves with at Edinburgh, and grasped each one a stout iron-shod staff, we set out for our El Dorado, the summit of the aspiring Lomond. Our guide was a stout young Highlander, who spoke Gallic much more fluently than Eng lish, but who was still sufficiently conversant with the latter to be understood, He was the son of an old farmer, a tenant of the Duke of Montrose. In reply to the question of my fair friend, Miss H ,if she could Tide all the way up to the summit, he said — “Oh ay, leddy, ye can ride joost to the verra tap.” Wc found him a very sociable and intelligent fellow, eager to point out all ob jects which possessed general interest. From ihe summit of one of the first acclivities, which was crowned with the soft heather, we looked down upon the beautiful lake and admired its transcendent loveliness. But ‘ Ex celsior’ was our watch-word, and we were so eager to reach the summit that we were com pelled, rather than inclined, to rest on some of the successive heights which we attained. At length we stood, panting with exertion, upon the lofty peak of Ben Lomond, to which § © © “ir ia ii & m $ a s & mr &. the eye of every tourist, as he enters the Highlands, is turned with so lively an inter est. There is a rude heap of earth and rock, called a ‘cairn,’ on the crown of the moun tain, up which I eagerly scrambled and stood half bewildered and wholly delighted with the wonderful scene spread out around me. — I cannot give you, my dear R., an adequate description of that glorious panorama of hill and vale —of lake and glen —the memory of which will haunt me amid the forests of the ‘new world.’ To mention the names of all the localities which our attentive guide indicated to us, would make this letter too long. Some of them we could recognize without his assist ance. The Loch stretched out below us, and gleamed like pure silver in the rich light of the morning. The beautiful waters of Ka trine, Yennachar and Achray, glistened on our left. Those of Loch Long were partly visible between the lofty mountains before us. All around us rose the summits of the 1 everlasting hills.’ Far to the south, rose Arthur’s Seat and Edinburgh Castle, and nearer to us, in the same line, frowned the old fortress of Sterling. On the north, ‘Alps piled on Alps’ lifted up their mighty peaks. Ben Nevis, capped with snow, rose like a sentinel on the east, and everywhere the idea of grandeur and infinity impressed itself upon the mind. While we were thus gazing abroad upon the wonderful scene spread out before us, and recalling the scenes made famous by the ‘magician of the North,’ ‘a change came o’er the spirit’ of the scene. The summits of Ben Nevis, Arthur’s Seat, and nearer hills, were suddenly, as it were, invested with cloudy caps ; and we were scarcely warned of the approach of a mountain storm before it burst upon us in fury. With our best speed we barely succeeded in reaching a hut which our guide, Donald, informed us had been occupied by some British sappers, who were employed in certain surveys in the vi ’ cinity. It was a rude affair, but never did we think a palace a more acceptable shelter than that old hut, into which we hurried our fair companions, whose light dresses were already damp with the heavy drops of the storm. Sheltering the ponies behind the cot, Donald soon followed us into its interior, re marking as he came in— * It’s weel, leddies, that yese got this wee bit o’ a roof aboon ye, for I ken the storm ’ll be fearfu’.’ Nor was Donald wrong in his anticipation—and al most on the summit of Ben Lomond we en countered one of the most furious gusts of wind and rain that I have ever seen. The wind came from the north-east, and the whole expanse of Loch Lomond was shrouded in a heavy mist, that seemed to roll before the blast like an immense sheet of foaming water. The whole air was full of vapor that whirled about like white-capped waves before the giant wind. We were so absorbed in the grandeur of the scene, that we quite forgot our discomforts; and I heartily rejoiced, in spite of them all, that the storm had arisen. It lasted only twenty minutes, at the end of which the clouds parted, the sun broke forth, the sea of mist rolled up the acclivities and disappeared, and in half an hour Loch Lo mond sparkled again in the almost unclouded sunshine. It seemed a vision of fairy-land, so rapid were the transmutations. The heavy rains made the descent of the mountain a matter of some peril, and we pro ceeded with great care —the gentlemen lead ing or preceding the ponies, upon which the ladies sat with a very commendable courage. It was high noon when we reached the Rowerdennen, and found there quite a party of visitors —English—which the steamboat descending the Loch had landed at the pier— a process that we overlooked from a conside rable height on the mountain. We were glad enough to rest in the after noon—and the ladies availed themselves of the opportunity to press within the leaves of Scott’s lady of the Lake, the rare and deli cate little flowers which we culled on Ben Lomond, as memorials of our visit. The next day we took the steamboat as cending the Loch, designing to traverse the whole length of it before we bade adieu to its crystal waters. As the little vessel glided along, herself apparently the only living thing amid the almost oppressive solitudes of the lake and its rocky shores, new scenes pre sented themselves at every turn of the chan nel. Rob Roy’s cave was pointed out to us some little distance beyond the beautiful In verenyde, where there is a romantic water fall, and which the genius of Wordsworth has hallowed in the exquisite address ‘To a High land Girl,’ beginning — ‘ Sweet Highland Girl—a very shower Os beauty is thy earthly dower ; Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost beauty on thy head.’ I would have landed at Inverenyde, could I have hoped to catch a glimpse of that fair form which so stirred the heart of the poet of Rydal Mount, as to make him exclaim — ‘ Now thanks to Heaven ! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had ; and going hence, I bear away my recompense. For I, methinks, till I grow old, As fair before me shall behold As I do now, the cabin small — T*he lake —the bay—the water-fall — And Thee, the spiiit of them all !* But such a hope was too vain to he indulged, and I passed the spot with a sigh that I could not look upon a being so fair, except with the glass of fancy. The cave of Rob Roy and the cave of Bruce are not identical, as is sometimes sup posed. The latter is difficult of access, in one of the mountains that overhang the lake. Our boat having reached the extremity of the Loch, entered a little stream, which it pursued with many devious windings, up a charming glen for a mile and a half, when we landed at a neat and comfortable Inn called Inverar nan: there we passed the night; and the next day descended the Lake in its whole extent to the head of the lovely valley of Leven.— During our progress down the Lake, below Rowerdennen Bay, we encountered a south western gale, which blew the mist into our faces, and completely shut out the view of the shores, so that we were not sorry on the subsequent morning to retrace our course, in the sheen of a cloudless sun, which lay smi lingly upon the deep glens that here and there opened from the opposite margins of the Lake, and illuminated the pretty cottages that dotted their verdant meads. We disem barked on the western shore nearly opposite to our old quarters. There we found an Inn and a Post-office, to which latter I committed my letter for you, and also a missive for London. While Mr. D was negociating for our immediate progress towards Inverary, Mr. H and myself, with the ladies, strolled along the margin of the Lake, and found our selves presently before a very inviting little cottage. Its inmates were an old lady and her grand-daughter. The former was indus triously spinning flax, and the latter was ty ing up a beautiful carnation, which was in full bloom, in a little stone jar. As the girl espied us, she retreated into the cottage, and we made bold to follow even to the door. We addressed the old woman with courteous words. She smiled and shook her head, say ing, ‘Na Englis,’ and pointing to her grand daughter. Mrs. H then asked the girl if she could speak English, to which she re plied in very sweet tones, ‘Yes, ma’am; I live in Edinboro’, but am visiting my old grandmother for a little time.’ She then told us that she had brought up the carnation t© her grandmother—that her father was a me chanic in the city, and that she had been to school more than two years. Mrs. H asked her if she had read Sir Walter Scott’s ‘Lady of the Lake,’ when a smile of enthu siasm kindled her pretty features, as she re plied, ‘Oh yes, ma’am, 1 have got it most all by heart’—at the same time taking up an old copy of the poem, which bore her father’s name on the fly-leaf. We made her young heart glad by telling her that we were Amer icans, and by giving her an American edition of ‘Marmion,’ which one of us happened to have with us. A post-coach runs from the landing to In verary, into which, or rather on which, mounted, and it rolled swiftly up a deep and narrow defile of the mountains. We skirted several pretty lakes, on which the wild ducks were swimming double ‘swan and shadow,’ if I may be excused the blunder. I have not time to say any more of our journey, than that it was a sunshiny one, and terminated at sun-set, almost in the shadows of the splendid castle of the Duke of Argyle, who is the lord of all this noble but thinly-settled territory. Os this pretty village I may say a word in my next. Your’s, faithfully, E. F. G. SdfctcD JJoctrj). - — ~ “ THE WARM, YOUNG HEART.” BY M. F. TUPPER. A beautiful face, and form of grace, Were a pleasant sight to see ; And gold, and gems, and diamonds, Right excellent they be ; But beauty and gold, though both untold, Are things of a worldly mart The wealth that I prize, above ingots or eyes, Is a heart—a warm young heart. O face most fair, shall thy beauty compare With afl'ection’s glowing light 1 Or riches and pride, how ] ale ye beside Love’s wealth serene and bright I spurn thee away, as a cold thing of clay, Though gilded and carved thou art: For all that 1 prize, in its smiles and its sigh** Is a heart—a warm young heart i • i THE SEASON. BY TIIOMAS HOOD. Summer’s gone and over! Fogs are falling down ! And with russet tinges, Autumn’s doing brown. Boughs are daily rifled By the busy theives, And the Book of Nature Getteth short of leaves. Round the tops of houses, Swallows as they flit, Give, like yearly tenants, Notices to quit. Skies of fickle temper, Weep by turns and laugh Night and day together, Taking half and half. So September endeth Cold and most perverse But the months that follow, Sure will pinch us worse ! (fiUitnpseß of Jfctu Books. GODWIN AND TALFOURD. Mr. Godwin was thus a man of two beings which held little discourse with each other — the daring inventor of theories constructed of air-drawn diagrams—and the simple gentle man, who suffered nothing to disturb or ex cite him. beyond his study. He loved to walk in the crowded streets of London, not, like Lamb, enjoying the infinite varieties of many colored life around him, but because he felt, amidst the noise, and crowd, and glare, more intensely the imperturbable stillness of hi# own contemplations. His means of comfort able support were mainly supplied by a shop in Skinner street, where, under the auspice# of “M. J. Godwin & C 0.,” the prettiest and wisest books for children issued, which old fashioned parents presented to their children, without suspecting that the graceful lesson# of piety and goodness which charmed away the selfishness of infancy, were published and sometimes revised, and now and then written by a philosopher, whom they would scarcely venture to name ! He met the exigencies which the vicissitudes of business sometime# caused, with the trusting simplicity which marked his course—he asked his friends for aid without scruple, considering that their means were justly the due of one who toiled in thought for their inward life, and had little time to provide for his own outward ex>#* tence; and took their excuses when offered, without doubt or offence. The very next daT after I had been honored and delighted with