The diarrhoea still continued to trouble us, so we asked the advice of a gentleman we met on the road, and he recommended us to call at the next farmhouse, which, fortunately, happened to be only a short distance away, and to “take a quart of milk each, as hot as you can drink it.”  So away we walked to the farm, which we found standing a short distance from our road, and, after explaining our troubles and wishes to the farmer, were invited into the house, where the mistress quickly provided us with the hot milk, which luckily proved to be a safe and simple remedy.  The farmer and his wife were as pleased with our company as we were with theirs, and were just the sort of people that tourists like to meet.  We had a long talk with them about the crops, the markets, our long walk, and, last but not least, the weather.  Speaking of diarrhoea, the farmer informed us that the water of Inverness often affected strangers in that way, and that it had even been known to produce dysentery.

After regaining our road, we had a lovely walk that day; the scenery and the weather were both very fine, and, about a mile farther on, we had a glorious view over Loch Ness, beside which our walk led us, through a delightful country studded with mansions amidst some of nature’s most beautiful scenery.  Presently we met a party of men, consisting of two soldiers and three civilians, engaged in cutting branches from the trees that were likely to interfere with the working of the telegraph, which passed along the side of the road.  It consisted of a single wire, and had only just been erected, for we noticed each post bore the Government mark and the date 1871.  We asked the men if they knew of a good remedy for our complaint, and one of the soldiers, who had seen service abroad, recommended “a spoonful of sweet oil and cinnamon mixed with it.”  Our former remedy had proved to be efficacious, so we had no need to try this, but we give the information here for the benefit of all whom it may concern.

[Illustration:  THE BURYING-PLACE OF THE CLANS.]

We were certainly in for the best day’s march we had yet experienced, if not for distance, certainly for beauty of route; and if we had had the gift of poetry—­which only affected us occasionally—­we should have had here food for poems sufficient to fill the side of a newspaper.  Mountain rills, gushing rivulets, and murmuring waters!  Here they were in abundance, rolling down the rocky mountains from unknown heights, and lending an additional charm to the landscape!  Is it necessary to dilate on such beauties?—­for if words were conjured in the most delicate and exquisite language imaginable, the glories of Loch Ness and its surroundings are, after all, things to be seen before they can be fully appreciated.  The loch is over twenty miles long, and averages about a mile broad; while a strange fact is that its water never freezes.  Scientific men, we were told, attributed this to the action of earthquakes in distant parts of the world, their vibrations affecting the surface of the water here; while others, apparently of the more commonsense type, attribute it to the extreme depth of the water in the loch itself, for in the centre it is said to exceed 260 yards.