ges like calm rivers, landlocked lakes, and,
to the main water, stormy promontories. The solitary hut on the flat
green island seemed unsheltered and desolate, and yet not wholly so, for
it was but a broad river's breadth from the covert of the wood of the
other island. Near to these is a miniature, an islet covered with trees,
on which stands a small ruin that looks like the remains of a religious
house; it is overgrown with ivy, and were it not that the arch of a
window or gateway may be distinctly seen, it would be difficult to
believe that it was not a tuft of trees growing in the shape of a ruin,
rather than a ruin overshadowed by trees. When we had walked a little
further we saw below us, on the nearest large island, where some of the
wood had been cut down, a hut, which we conjectured to be a bark hut. It
appeared to be on the shore of a little forest lake, enclosed by
Inch-ta-vanach, where we were, and the woody island on which the hut
stands.

Beyond we had the same intricate view as before, and could discover
Dumbarton rock with its double head. There being a mist over it, it had
a ghost-like appearance--as I observed to William and Coleridge,
something like the Tor of Glastonbury from the Dorsetshire hills. Right
before us, on the flat island mentioned before, were several small single
trees or shrubs, growing at different distances from each other, close to
the shore, but some optical delusion had detached them from the land on
which they stood, and they had the appearance of so many little vessels
sailing along the coast of it. I mention the circumstance, because, with
the ghostly image of Dumbarton Castle, and the ambiguous ruin on the
small island, it was much in the character of the scene, which was
throughout magical and enchanting--a new world in its great permanent
outline and composition, and changing at every moment in every part of it
by the effect of sun and wind, and mist and shower and cloud, and the
blending lights and deep shades which took place of each other,
traversing the lake in every direction. The whole was indeed a strange
mixture of soothing and restless images, of images inviting to rest, and
others hurrying the fancy away into an activity still more pleasing than
repose. Yet, intricate and homeless, that is, without lasting
abiding-place for the mind, as the prospect was, there was no perplexity;
we had still a guide to lead us forward.

Wherever we looked, it was a deligh