Remember, Friend, when this you see,
  As I am now so you must be;
  As you are now so once was I.
  Remember, Friend, that you must die.

There was also another tombstone, apparently that of his mother, inscribed: 

  SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JEAN SCOTT, THE AMIABLE WIFE OF WILLIAM
  FALL, INVERMORISTON, INNKEEPER, WHO DIED ON THE 13TH DAY OF
  APRIL 1837 AGED 68 YEARS.

and on this appeared the following epitaph: 

  Weep not for me, O friends,
  But weep and mourn
  For your own sins.

[Illustration:  LOCH NESS FROM FORT AUGUSTUS.]

We then went to visit the remarkable waterfall of Glenmoriston, where the water after rushing down the rocks for some distance entered a crevice in a projecting rock below, evidently worn in the course of ages by the falls themselves.  Here the water suddenly disappeared, to reappear as suddenly some distance below, where, as if furious at its short imprisonment, it came out splashing, dashing, and boiling in fantastic beauty amongst the rocks over which it pursued its downward course.  We descended a few paces along a footpath leading to a small but ancient building, probably at one time a summer house, in the centre of which a very old millstone had done duty as a table.  Here we were fairly in the whirl of waters, and had a splendid view of the falls and of the spray which rose to a considerable height.  There was no doubt that we saw this lovely waterfall under the best possible conditions, and it was some recompense to us when we thought that the heavy rainfall through which we had passed had contributed to this result.  The thistle may overshadow many more beautiful falls than the falls of Glenmoriston, but we claim a share of praise for this lively little waterfall as viewed by us in full force from this shady retreat.

[Illustration:  GENERAL WADE’S ROAD NEAR FORT AUGUSTUS, WITH LOCH NESS IN THE DISTANCE.]

[Illustration:  A LIGHTHOUSE ON LOCH NESS.]

[Illustration:  FALLS OF FOYERS AND LOCH NESS.  “Here in the whirl of waters ... the spray rose to a considerable height.”]

After refreshing ourselves at the inn, we started on our next stage of ten miles to Fort Augustus, the loneliness of our journey through its beauties of scenery being enlivened by occasionally watching the pranks of the squirrels and gazing at the many burns that flowed down the mountain slopes.  Before reaching Fort Augustus we had a splendid view as we looked backward over Loch Ness, dotted here and there with several ships tacking and retacking, their white sails gleaming in the sunshine.  It had been a calm and lovely day; the sun was sinking in the west as we entered Fort Augustus, but we had only time enough for a superficial survey, for we had to proceed farther, and, however important the Fort might have been in 1729 when General Wade constructed his famous military road, or when the Duke of Cumberland made