Chapter 15 - Page 2

could
for a moment catch sight of the old tower of its ancient castle.
Then, the SINCLAIR turning northward, the tourists gazed upon Ben Lomond,
towering nearly 3,000 feet above the level of the lake.

"Oh, what a noble mountain!" cried Nell; "what a view there must
be from the top!"

"Yes, Nell," answered James Starr; "see how haughtily its peak
rises from amidst the thicket of oaks, birches, and heather,
which clothe the lower portion of the mountain! From thence one
may see two-thirds of old Caledonia. This eastern side of the lake
was the special abode of the clan McGregor. At no great distance,
the struggles of the Jacobites and Hanoverians repeatedly
dyed with blood these lonely glens. Over these scenes shines
the pale moon, called in old ballads 'Macfarlane's lantern.'
Among these rocks still echo the immortal names of Rob Roy
and McGregor Campbell."

As the SINCLAIR advanced along the base of the mountain,
the country became more and more abrupt in character.
Trees were only scattered here and there; among them were the willows,
slender wands of which were formerly used for hanging persons
of low degree.

"To economize hemp," remarked James Starr.

The lake narrowed very much as it stretched northwards.

The steamer passed a few more islets, Inveruglas, Eilad-whow, where stand
some ruins of a stronghold of the clan MacFarlane. At length the head
of the loch was reached, and the SINCLAIR stopped at Inversnaid.

Leaving Loch Arklet on the left, a steep ascent led to the Inn
of Stronachlacar, on the banks of Loch Katrine.

There, at the end of a light pier, floated a small steamboat,
named, as a matter of course, the Rob Roy. The travelers
immediately went on board; it was about to start. Loch Katrine
is only ten miles in length; its width never exceeds two miles.
The hills nearest it are full of a character peculiar to themselves.

"Here we are on this famous lake," said James Starr. "It has
been compared to an eel on account of its length and windings:
and justly so. They say that it never freezes.
I know nothing about that, but what we want to think of is,
that here are the scenes of the adventures in the Lady of
the Lake. I believe, if friend Jack looked about him carefully,
he might see, still gliding over the surface of the water,
the shade of the slender form of sweet Ellen Douglas."

"To be sure, Mr. Starr," replied Jack; "why should I not?
I may just as well see that pretty girl on the waters of Loch Katrine,
as those ugly ghosts on Loch Malcolm in the coal pit."

It was by this time three o'clock in the afternoon. The less hilly
shores of Loch Katrine westward extended like a picture framed between
Ben An and Ben