then we knew that Love is proverbially blind, and we consigned this fern story to the region of our mythological remembrances, and were still in good humour and not too tired when we reached the Cairndow inn, where we were hospitably, sumptuously, and we could safely add, when we paid the bill next morning, expensively entertained.  But was this partly accounted for by the finely flavoured herrings known as Loch Fyne kippers we had for breakfast, which were said to fetch a higher price than any others in Scotland?

(Distance walked twenty-five miles.)

Tuesday, October 3rd.

We left Cairndow early in the morning, and soon afterwards turned away from Loch Fyne to ascend a rough and lonely road leading towards Loch Long, about eight miles distant.  It was a cold, bleak, and showery morning as we travelled along Glen Kinglas against a strong head wind, which greatly impeded our progress.  On reaching the top of the glen, we came to the small Loch Restil, reposing at the foot of a mountain the summit of which was 2,955 feet above sea-level.  The only persons we had seen on our way up the glen were two shepherds on the slope of one of the hills some distance from our road; but now we came to two men mending the road, in which great holes had been caused by the heavy rainfall.  We chatted with them, and they told us that a little farther on we should come to “The Rest.”  Though it may seem a trifling matter to record, we were very glad to see those two men, as our way had been excessively lonely and depressing, for the pass only reached about 900 feet at its crown, while the great hills which immediately adjoined the road on either side rose to an altitude of from 2,500 to 3,300 feet!  When we arrived at “The Rest” we found a rock on which were inscribed the words “Rest and be Thankful,” while another inscription informed us that “This is a Military Road repaired by the 93rd Regiment in 1768.”  We thought that at one time there must have been a stone placed there, to do duty as a travellers’ rest, where weary travellers might “Rest and be Thankful,” but nothing of the kind existed now except the surface of the road on which we were walking.  On reaching a short stiff rise, followed by a sharp double bend in the road, we passed the entrance of a track leading down to “Hell’s Glen”; but if this glen was any worse than Glen Kinglas which we had just ascended, or Glen Croe which we now descended, it must have been a very dreadful place indeed.  Fortunately for us, the weather began to improve, and before we reached Loch Long with its lofty ramparts the sun shone out in all its matchless glory and lighted up not only the loch but the whole of the amphitheatre formed by the lofty hills that surrounded it.  A passenger steamboat plying on the bosom of the loch lent additional interest to the scene, and the combined view quite cheered our drooping spirits.  The change, both as regarded scenery and atmosphere, between