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 this agreeable surprise, when he became king, a law was passed, declaring goats free throughout all Scotland—­unpunishable for whatever trespass they might commit, and the legend further says, that not having been repealed, it continues in force at the present day.

On the opposite shore of the lake is a large rock, called “Bull’s Rock,” having a door in the side, with a stairway cut through the interior to a pulpit on the top, from which the pastor at Arroquhar preaches a monthly discourse.  The Gaelic legend of the rock is, that it once stood near the summit of the mountain above, and was very nearly balanced on the edge of a precipice.  Two wild bulls, fighting violently, dashed with great force against the rock, which, being thrown from its balance, was tumbled down the side of the mountain, till it reached its present position.  The Scot was speaking with great bitterness of the betrayal of Wallace, when I asked him if it was still considered an insult to turn a loaf of bread bottom upwards in the presence of a Montieth.  “Indeed it is, sir,” said he, “I have often done it myself.”

Until last May, travellers were taken no higher up the lake than Rob Roy’s Cave, but another boat having commenced running, they can now go beyond Loch Lomond, two miles up Glen Falloch, to the Inn of Inverarnan, thereby visiting some of the finest scenery in that part of the Highlands.  It was ludicrous, however, to see the steamboat on a river scarcely wider than herself, in a little valley, hemmed in completely with lofty mountains.  She went on, however, pushing aside the thickets which lined both banks, and I almost began to think she was going to take the shore for it, when we came to a place widened out for her to be turned around in; here we jumped ashore in a green meadow, on which the cool mist was beginning to descend.

When we arose in the morning, at 4 o’clock, to return with the boat, the sun was already shining upon the westward hills, scarcely a cloud was in the sky, and the air was pure and cool.  To our great delight Ben Lomond was unshrouded, and we were told that a more favorable day for the ascent had not occurred for two months.  We left the boat at Rowardennan, an inn at the southern base of Ben Lomond.  After breakfasting on Loch Lomond trout, I stole out to the shore while my companions were preparing for the ascent, and made a hasty sketch of the lake.