From the next mountain we saw Loch Ackill and Loch Katrine below, but a wet and weary descent had yet to be made.  I was about throwing off my knapsack on a rock, to take a sketch of Loch Katrine, which appeared very beautiful from this point, when we discerned a cavalcade of ponies winding along the path from Inversnaid, to the head of the lake, and hastened down to take the boat when they should arrive.  Our haste turned out to be unnecessary, however, for they had to wait for their luggage, which was long in coming.  Two boatmen then offered to take us for two shillings and sixpence each, with the privilege of stopping at Ellen’s Isle; the regular fare being two shillings.  We got in, when, after exchanging a few words in Gaelic, one of them called to the travellers, of whom there were a number, to come and take passage at two shillings—­then at one and sixpence, and finally concluded by requesting them all to step on board the shilling boat!  At length, having secured nine at this reduced price, we pushed off; one of the passengers took the helm, and the boat glided merrily over the clear water.

It appears there is some opposition among the boatmen this summer, which is all the better for travelers.  They are a bold race, and still preserve many of the characteristics of the clan from which they sprung.  One of ours, who had a chieftain-like look, was a MacGregor, related to Rob Roy.  The fourth descendant in a direct line, now inhabits the Rob Roy mansion, at Glengyle, a valley at the head of the lake.  A small steamboat was put upon Loch Katrine a short time ago, but the boatmen, jealous of this new invasion of their privilege, one night towed her out to the middle of the lake and there sunk her.

Near the point of Brianchoil is a very small island with a few trees upon it, of which the boatman related a story that was new to me.  He said an eccentric individual, many years ago, built his house upon it—­but it was soon beaten down by the winds and waves.  Having built it up with like fortune several times, he at last desisted, saying, “bought wisdom was the best;” since when it has been called the Island of Wisdom.  On the shore below, the boatman showed us his cottage.  The whole family were out at the door to witness our progress; he hoisted a flag, and when we came opposite, they exchanged shouts in Gaelic.  As our men resumed their oars again, we assisted in giving three cheers, which made the echoes of Benvenue ring again.  Some one observed his dog, looking after us from a projecting rock, when he called out to him, “go home, you brute!” We asked him why he did not speak Gaelic also to his dog.

“Very few dogs, indeed,” said he, “understand Gaelic, but they all understand English.  And we therefore all use English when speaking to our dogs; indeed, I know some persons, who know nothing of English, that speak it to their dogs!”