gainst nature's
stone walls, which are at least as formidable as man's. But let any one
study the disposal of the ground, calculating the gradients and summit
levels as if he were a railway-engineer for the time being--let him
observe where the moss lies deep, and precipices rise too steep to be
scrambled over; and he will be very obtuse indeed, if he is not able to
chalk out for himself precisely the best way to the top. It is a good
general rule to keep by the side of a stream. That if you do so when you
are at the top of a hill, you will somehow or other find your way to the
bottom, is, we are convinced, a proposition as sound as Newton's theory
of gravitation. But in the ascent, the stream is often far better than a
human guide. It has no interest to lead you to the top of some
episodical hill and down again, and to make you scramble over an
occasional dangerous pass, to show you how impossible it is that you
could have found the way yourself, and how fortunate you are in having
secured the services of an intelligent and intrepid guide. On the
contrary, as long as you keep by the side of the stream you are always
gaining ground and making your way towards the higher levels, while you
avoid bogs: for the edge of a stream is generally the dryest part of a
mountain.

Choosing the broadest and deepest scaur that is scratched down the
abrupt side of the lower range of the mountain, we find it, as we
anticipated, the channel of a clear dancing stream, which amuses us with
its babble for several hundred feet of the ascent. Some time ere we had
reached the base of the hill we had lost sight of the summit, and there
was before us only the broad steep bank, with its surface of alternate
stone and heather, and a few birch-trees peeping timidly forth from
crevices in the rock. After a considerable period of good hard climbing,
accompanied by nothing worthy of note either in the variations of the
scenery or in the incidents encountered, we are at the top of this
rampart; and behold! on the other side of a slight depression, in which
sleeps a small inky lake, the bold summit of the mountain rises clear
and abrupt and close, as one might see the dome of a cathedral from the
parapet on the roof. Here we linger to take a last look of the objects
at the foot of the hill, for ere we resume the ascent we shall lose
sight of them. Already Fort William looks like a collection of
rabbit-houses. The steam-boat on the lake is like a boy's C