We purposed descending on the northern side and crossing the Highlands to Loch Katrine; though it was represented as difficult and dangerous by the guide who wished to accompany us, we determined to run the risk of being enveloped in a cloud on the summit, and so set out alone, the path appearing plain before us.  We had no difficulty in following it up the lesser heights, around the base.  It wound on, over rock and bog, among the heather and broom with which the mountain is covered, sometimes running up a steep acclivity, and then winding zigzag round a rocky ascent.  The rains two days before, had made the bogs damp and muddy, but with this exception, we had little trouble for some time.  Ben Lomond is a doubly formed mountain.  For about three-fourths of the way there is a continued ascent, when it is suddenly terminated by a large barren plain, from one end of which the summit shoots up abruptly, forming at the north side, a precipice 500 feet high.  As we approached the summit of the first part of the mountain, the way became very steep and toilsome; but the prospect, which had before been only on the south side, began to open on the east, and we saw suddenly spread out below us, the vale of Menteith, with “far Loch Ard and Aberfoil” in the centre, and the huge front of Benvenue filling up the picture.  Taking courage from this, we hurried on.  The heather had become stunted and dwarfish, and the ground was covered with short brown grass.  The mountain sheep, which we saw looking at us from the rock above, had worn so many paths along the side, that we could not tell which to take, but pushed on in the direction of the summit, till thinking it must be near at hand, we found a mile and a half of plain before us, with the top of Ben Lomond at the farther end.  The plain was full of wet moss, crossed in all directions by deep ravines or gullies worn in it by the mountain rains, and the wind swept across with a tempest-like force.

I met, near the base, a young gentleman from Edinburgh, who had left Rowardennan before us, and we commenced ascending together.  It was hard work, but neither liked to stop, so we climbed up to the first resting place, and found the path leading along the brink of a precipice.  We soon attained the summit, and climbing up a little mound of earth and stones, I saw the half of Scotland at a glance.  The clouds hung just above the mountain tops, which rose all around like the waves of a mighty sea.  On every side—­near and far—­stood their misty summits, but Ben Lomond was the monarch of them all.  Loch Lomond lay unrolled under my feet like a beautiful map, and just opposite, Loch Long thrust its head from between the feet of the crowded hills, to catch a glimpse of the giant.  We could see from Ben Nevis to Ayr—­from Edinburgh to Staffa.  Stirling and Edinburgh Castles would have been visible, but that the clouds hung low in the valley of the Forth and hid them from our sight.