expressed it, the day after the 'great speet,'
namely, the great rain. We had a moorfowl and mutton-chops for dinner,
well cooked, and a reasonable charge. The house was clean for a Scotch
inn, and the people about the doors were well dressed. In one of the
parlours we saw a company of nine or ten, with the landlady, seated round
a plentiful table,--a sight which made us think of the fatted calf in the
alehouse pictures of the Prodigal Son. There seemed to be a whole
harvest of meats and drinks, and there was something of festivity and
picture-like gaiety even in the fresh-coloured dresses of the people and
their Sunday faces. The white table-cloth, glasses, English dishes,
etc., were all in contrast with what we had seen at Inveroran: the places
were but about nine miles asunder, both among hills; the rank of the
people little different, and each house appeared to be a house of plenty.

We were I think better pleased with our treatment at this inn than any of
the lonely houses on the road, except Taynuilt; but Coleridge had not
fared so well, and was dissatisfied, as he has since told us, and the two
travellers who breakfasted with us at Inveroran had given a bad account
of the house.

Left Tyndrum at about five o'clock; a gladsome afternoon; the road
excellent, and we bowled downwards through a pleasant vale, though not
populous, or well cultivated, or woody, but enlivened by a river that
glittered as it flowed. On the side of a sunny hill a knot of men and
women were gathered together at a preaching. We passed by many droves of
cattle and Shetland ponies, which accident stamped a character upon
places, else unrememberable--not an individual character, but the soul,
the spirit, and solitary simplicity of many a Highland region.

We had about eleven miles to travel before we came to our lodging, and
had gone five or six, almost always descending, and still in the same
vale, when we saw a small lake before us after the vale had made a
bending to the left; it was about sunset when we came up to the lake; the
afternoon breezes had died away, and the water was in perfect stillness.
One grove-like island, with a ruin that stood upon it overshadowed by the
trees, was reflected on the water. This building, which, on that
beautiful evening, seemed to be wrapped up in religious quiet, we were
informed had been raised for defence by some Highland chieftain. All
traces of strength, or war, or danger are passed away, an