A NIGHT ON BEN LOMOND.

At Inversnaid, we took a boat to go down Loch Lomond, to the little inn of Rowardennan, from which the ascent is made of Ben Lomond.  We found a day of ten thousand, for our purpose; but, unhappily, a large party had come with the sun, and engaged all the horses, so that if we went, it must be on foot.  This was something of an enterprise for me, as the ascent is four miles, and toward the summit quite fatiguing.  However, in the pride of newly-gained health and strength, I was ready, and set forth with Mr. S. alone.  We took no guide, and the people of the house did not advise us to take one, as they ought.

On reaching the peak, the sight was one of beauty and grandeur such as imagination never painted.  You see around you no plain ground, but on every side constellations, or groups of hills, exquisitely dressed in the soft purple of the heather, amid which gleam the lakes, like eyes that tell the secrets of the earth, and drink in those of the heavens.  Peak beyond peak caught from the shifting light all the colors of the prism, and, on the furthest, angel companies seemed hovering in glorious white robes.

About four o’clock we began our descent.  Near the summit, the traces of the path are not distinct, and I said to Mr. S., after a while, that we had lost it.  He said he thought that was of no consequence; we could find our way down.  I said I thought it was, as the ground was full of springs that were bridged over in the pathway.  He accordingly went to look for it, and I stood still, because I was so tired I did not like to waste any labor.

Soon he called to me that he had found it, and I followed in the direction where he seemed to be.  But I mistook, overshot it, and saw him no more.  In about ten minutes I became alarmed, and called him many times.  It seems, he on his side shouted also, but the brow of some hill was between us, and we neither saw nor heard one another.  I then thought I would make the best of my way down, and I should find him when I arrived.  But, in doing so, I found the justice of my apprehension about the springs, so soon as I got to the foot of the hills; for I would sink up to my knees in bog, and must go up the hills again, seeking better crossing places.  Thus I lost much time.  Nevertheless, in the twilight, I saw, at last, the lake, and the inn of Rowardennan on its shore.

Between me and it, lay, direct, a high heathery hill, which I afterwards found is called “The Tongue,” because hemmed in on three sides by a water-course.  It looked as if, could I only get to the bottom of that, I should be on comparatively level ground.  I then attempted to descend in the water-course, but, finding that impracticable, climbed on the hill again, and let myself down by the heather, for it was very steep, and full of deep holes.  With great fatigue, I got to the bottom, but when I was about to cross the water-course there, I felt afraid, it looked so deep in the dim twilight.  I got down as far as I could by the root of a tree, and threw down a stone.  It sounded very hollow, and I was afraid to jump.  The shepherds told me afterwards, if I had, I should probably have killed myself, it was so deep, and the bed of the torrent full of sharp stones.