beam might not die upon nor its first ray shine upon the water in the well.  If this care were neglected, a fearful and mysterious doom would be the punishment.  When the father of the Calliach Bhere died, he committed the charge to her, warning her of its importance and solemnity and the fatality attending its neglect.  For many years this mysterious woman attended carefully to her duties, but one unlucky evening, tired with her exertions in hunting and ascending the hills, she sat down by the fountain to await the setting of the sun, and falling asleep, did not awake until morning.  When she arose she looked around, but the vale had vanished and a great sheet of water taken its place.  The neglected well had overflowed while she slept, the glen was changed into a lake, the hills into islets, and her people and cattle had perished in the deluge.  The Calliach took but one look over the ruin she had caused, and all that remained of her large possessions in the glen was Loch Awe and its islands!  Then she herself vanished into oblivion.

It is strange how these old stories are told with but little variation in so many places.  This very story appears in Wales and Ireland and other regions where Celts predominate, and except in one instance, that of the destruction of the Lowland Hundreds, now under the water of Cardigan Bay, always in connection with a woman.  We first heard it in Shropshire, but there it was an old woman who lived in a small cottage and possessed the only well in the place, charging the townspeople one farthing per bucket for the water.  In those remote times this formed a great tax on the poor people, and many were the prayers offered up that the imposition might be removed.  These prayers were answered, for one night a great storm arose, the well continued to overflow, and in the morning the old woman and her cottage had disappeared, and in place of the well appeared the beautiful Lake of Ellesmere.

[Illustration:  INVERARY CASTLE.]

We had a fine walk down Glen Aray, with the River Aray on the left for some distance to keep us company, and after about four miles’ walking we came to a ladder inserted in a high stone wall to the left of our road, which was here covered with trees.  My brother climbed up to see what was on the other side, and reported that there was a similar ladder in the wall for descent, that he could see the river rushing down the rocks, and that a pretty little pathway ran under the trees alongside the stream.  We had not met a single person since leaving the neighbourhood of Cladich, and as there was no one about from whom to make inquiries, we took “French leave” and climbed over the fence, to see at once a pretty waterfall and to follow a lovely path for a mile or two until it landed us in one of the main drives from Inverary Castle.  Here we stopped to consider whether we should proceed or retreat, for we were sure we had been trespassing.  My brother reminded me of an experience that occurred to us in the previous