boy, and his bark was converted by the poet from a common boat to a turtle-shell, for which substitution Wordsworth apologises thus:-'In deference to the opinion of a friend, I have substituted such a shell for the less elegant vessel in which my blind voyager did actually entrust himself to the dangerous current of Loch Leven;' an instance of bad taste, as it seems to me, and a change which mars the truth and beauty of a poem, in which we might have expected that the author of Peter Bell' would have been more consistent and natural.

But the little maiden of Inversnaid, in Professor Wilson's legend, floats away at nightfall, in a real boat, and, though the paddling of her oars can, for a short time, be heard, she herself is soon lost to view. In an hour, 'the returning boat touched the Inversnaid shore; but no child or other person could be seen. The parents made an ineffectual search for her, and it was not till long afterwards that they found some little white bones and gave them christian burial, believing them to be the remains of their daughter.' But not so thought many dwellers along the mountain-shores' for had not her very voice been often heard by the shepherds, when the unseen flight of fairies sailed singing along up the solitary Glenfalloch, away over the moors of Tynedrum, and down to the sweet Dalmally, where the shadow of Cruachan darkens the old ruins of melancholy Kilchurn? The lost child's parents died in their old age; but she, 'tis said, is unchanged in shape and features-the same fair thing she was the evening that she disappeared-only a shade of sadness is on her pale face, as if she were pining for the sound of human voices, and the gleam of the peat-fire of the shieling. Ever, when the fairy-court is seen for a

moment beneath the glimpses of the moon, she is sitting by the side of the gracious queen. Words of might there are, that, if whispered at right season, would yet recall her from the shadowy world to which she has been spirited away; but small sentinels stand at their stations all round the isle, and at nearing of human breath a shrill warning is given from sedge and water-lily, and like dew-drops melt away the phantoms, while mixed with peals of little laughter overhead is heard the winnowing of wings. For the hollow of the earth and the hollow of the air is their invisible kingdom, and when they touch the herbage or flowers of this earth of ours, whose lonely places they love, then only are they revealed to human eyes-at all times else to our senses unexistent as dreams.'

The isle herein referred to is the Isle of Fairies,' as the fishermen call it, where, as they say, the little folk live and hold their revels. But the name might well be given to every island upon Loch Lomond, so fairylike and beautiful do they seem, whether viewed in the strong light of the noonday, or bathed in the misty golden glimmer of sunset, or silvered into solemn. whiteness by the midnight moon. It was with lingering step and slow' that I turned away from Inversnaid, and looked my last on Loch Lomond.

CHAPTER XX.

ROB ROY'S COUNTRY.

The Road from Inversnaid-The Fort, and a Sonnet upon it—
History of the Fort-Black Knee-General Wolfe—The Key
of the Fort-A Primitive Barley-wain-Government Roads—
Caufield's Epigram-Rob Roy, Laird of Inversnaid-His His-
tory-His Last Duel—A Fat Hero Exaggerated Description
of the Outlaw-Common Thief and Gentleman Drover-
Rob Roy's System and Lord Clive's-A Mythic Hero and his
Relics-Loch Arclet-The Bailie Nicol Jarvie.

WE

E have mounted the hill that leads us from Inversnaid, and have bidden adieu to Loch Lomond. The road now is chiefly upon the level, and may be pronounced a good one all the way from Inversnaid to Loch Katrine. The distance is five miles, and is rapidly performed by the coaches for a charge of two shillings. Accidents are rare, although on the day on which I reached the Stronachlachar inn the coach that came next after ours sank one of its wheels in a deep rut on the side of the sharp pitch that leads down to Loch Katrine and was overturned, fortunately without doing any serious injury to its passengers. Still, this is an event which is calculated to shake the strongest nerves, and to destroy all pleasure, for that day at least. The road is as yet in its infancy: and it is only a few years since that carriages were introduced to this wild part of the country, the tourists up to that time being forced to perform the transit of Rob Roy's country on pony-back

or on foot. And, certainly, the pedestrian has the best of it; and unless he is bound hand and foot to a programme that will take him all round these lakes and back to Edinburgh between breakfast and tea, it is far better that he should trudge on foot from Inversnaid, and stray to the right and left to look at Inversnaid Fort and Loch Arclet. It is true that either may be seen from the coach-top, but they deserve a more than passing recognition.

Inversnaid Fort is about a mile from Inversnaid, and stands on a slight eminence a little to the left of the coach road. It is backed by lofty hills, from whence a mountain stream comes hurrying down to meet and cross the water of the Inversnaid burn. A bridge spans the stream, and a few Highland cottages are seen scattered about the moor. But the whole scene is a wild and desolate one. The woods that once covered the spot were destroyed by General Wade, and the treeless waste is now in fit keeping with the blank desolateness of the ruined fort. Even on a fine sunny day it leaves upon the mind much the same impression as that recorded by Alexander Smith in the following sonnet :

Like clouds or streams we wandered on at will
Three glorious days, till, near our journey's end,
As down the moorland road we straight did wend,
To Wordsworth's Inversneyd,' talking to kill
The cold and cheerless drizzle in the air,
'Bove me I saw, at pointing of my friend,
An old fort like a ghost upon the hill,

Stare in blank misery through the blinding rain,
So human-like it seemed in its despair-

So stunned with grief-long gazed at it we twain.
Weary and damp we reached our poor abode,

I, warmly seated in the chimney-nook,

Still saw that old fort o'er the moorland road

Stare through the rain with strange woe-wildered look.

*

HISTORY OF THE FORT.

209

The fort was erected early in the last century, and was intended for a barrack-station, to overawe the Macgregors, and to repress their depredations. It was, however, captured and destroyed by the redoubtable chief of the Macgregors, the famous Rob Roy, upon whose own land the fort had been erected. It was re-established, but was again taken by the Macgregors, under the command of Rob Roy's nephew, Gregor Macgregor, otherwise called James Graham of Glengyle, and still better known by the Gaelic epithet of Ghlune Dhu, or Black Knee,' from a black spot on one of his knees, which his Highland dress rendered visible. This was just previous to the insurrection of the '45; and after the extinction of civil discord, Inversnaid Fort was established for a third time, and continued to be garrisoned till the commencement of the reign of George III., being commanded for some time by a subaltern in the Buffs, who was afterwards known to fame as General Wolfe. "When we find the celebrated General Wolfe commanding in it,' says Sir Walter Scott, 'the imagination is strongly affected by the variety of time and events which the circumstances bring simultaneously to recollection.' It seems that up to the year 1792, when Sir Walter Scott passed through this country on a Highland tour, the semblance of a garrison was still maintained at Inversnaid, although it was limited to a single veteran. The poet says that he found the venerable warder reaping his barley croft in all peace and tranquillity, and that when he asked for admittance to repose himself, he was told that he would find the key of the fort under the door.

* Glengyle is on the northern shore of Loch Katrine. 'The lovely Flora of Glengyle' was beloved by the Lord Ronald of Scott's ballad of Glenfinlas.'

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