was defended by rocks at each
end, and the hills behind made a shelter for the cottage, the only
dwelling, I believe, except one, on this side of Loch Ketterine. We now
came to steeps that rose directly from the lake, and passed by a place
called in the Gaelic the Den of the Ghosts, {97} which reminded us of
Lodore; it is a rock, or mass of rock, with a stream of large black
stones like the naked or dried-up bed of a torrent down the side of it;
birch-trees start out of the rock in every direction, and cover the hill
above, further than we could see. The water of the lake below was very
deep, black, and calm. Our delight increased as we advanced, till we
came in view of the termination of the lake, seeing where the river
issues out of it through a narrow chasm between the hills.

Here I ought to rest, as we rested, and attempt to give utterance to our
pleasure: but indeed I can impart but little of what we felt. We were
still on the same side of the water, and, being immediately under the
hill, within a considerable bending of the shore, we were enclosed by
hills all round, as if we had been upon a smaller lake of which the whole
was visible. It was an entire solitude; and all that we beheld was the
perfection of loveliness and beauty.

We had been through many solitary places since we came into Scotland, but
this place differed as much from any we had seen before, as if there had
been nothing in common between them; no thought of dreariness or
desolation found entrance here; yet nothing was to be seen but water,
wood, rocks, and heather, and bare mountains above. We saw the mountains
by glimpses as the clouds passed by them, and were not disposed to
regret, with our boatman, that it was not a fine day, for the near
objects were not concealed from us, but softened by being seen through
the mists. The lake is not very wide here, but appeared to be much
narrower than it really is, owing to the many promontories, which are
pushed so far into it that they are much more like islands than
promontories. We had a longing desire to row to the outlet and look up
into the narrow passage through which the river went; but the point where
we were to land was on the other side, so we bent our course right
across, and just as we came in sight of two huts, which have been built
by Lady Perth as a shelter for those who visit the Trossachs, Coleridge
hailed us with a shout of triumph from the door of one of them, exulting
in the