house is itself such a pleasant sight, that I believe,
without our knowing how or why, it makes us look with a more loving eye
on the fields and trees than for their own sakes they deserve.

At about one o'clock we set off, William on our own horse, and I with my
Highland driver. He was perfectly acquainted with the country, being a
sort of carrier or carrier-merchant or shopkeeper, going frequently to
Glasgow with his horse and cart to fetch and carry goods and merchandise.
He knew the name of every hill, almost every rock; and I made good use of
his knowledge; but partly from laziness, and still more because it was
inconvenient, I took no notes, and now I am little better for what he
told me. He spoke English tolerably; but seldom understood what was said
to him without a 'What's your wull?' We turned up to the right, and were
at the foot of the glen--the laird's house cannot be said to be _in_ the
glen. The afternoon was delightful,--the sun shone, the mountain-tops
were clear, the lake glittered in the great vale behind us, and the
stream of Glen Coe flowed down to it glittering among alder-trees. The
meadows of the glen were of the freshest green; one new-built stone house
in the first reach, some huts, hillocks covered with wood, alder-trees
scattered all over. Looking backward, we were reminded of Patterdale and
the head of Ulswater, but forward the greatness of the mountains overcame
every other idea.

The impression was, as we advanced up to the head of this first reach, as
if the glen were nothing, its loneliness and retirement--as if it made up
no part of my feeling: the mountains were all in all. That which fronted
us--I have forgotten its name--was exceedingly lofty, the surface stony,
nay, the whole mountain was one mass of stone, wrinkled and puckered up
together. At the second and last reach--for it is not a winding vale--it
makes a quick turning almost at right angles to the first; and now we are
in the depths of the mountains; no trees in the glen, only green
pasturage for sheep, and here and there a plot of hay-ground, and
something that tells of former cultivation. I observed this to the
guide, who said that formerly the glen had had many inhabitants, and that
there, as elsewhere in the Highlands, there had been a great deal of corn
where now the lands were left waste, and nothing fed upon them but
cattle. I cannot attempt to describe the mountains. I can only say that
I thought those on o