GUSHING YOUNG LADIES. 225 property and its conversion into a scissors-and-paste book, what would Mrs. Grundy and the public say? Would they bear the repetition of a poem with which they must be as well acquainted as with their ABC? I think not. They would consider it an insult to their understandings to be reminded of what was so familiar to them; and they would say that they did not want to hear what Scott said about these places, but what the author whose book they were perusing might find to say concerning them. Which, after all, must be but a very weak dilution of Scott, and 'poor parritch.' I shall, therefore, say but little; and in what I do say endeavour to forget Scott. This, at least, will be novel, if not pleasing; for they who write on Loch Katrine and the Trosachs usually do so in the sandwich style a good rich slice of Scott being placed between their own prosy pieces of bread, scraped over with the butter of commendation, and flavoured with the sharp mustard of cleverness. 6 And perhaps there may be such a thing as a surfeit of Scott even in the boundary of the enchanted land.' In the first place, every young lady who is borne on board the little steamer is a passenger by The Rob Roy,' which is bearing her amid the scenes of "The Lady of the Lake,' and she therefore feels it a necessity to quote from the poem. If bashfulness or reticence prevent her from so doing, there is sure to be some gentleman of her party who is anxious to give his poetical knowledge an airing, and will take the quotations upon his own hands and lips. This is to be regretted, as the young lady would do it much better. If the customary gushes of Scott should happen to be repressed, to the great danger of the bursting of the over-charged high pressure poetical minds of the travellers on board, the captain of the little vessel, or the very man at the wheel himself, will haste to the rescue by a timely quotation which may serve as a vent peg, and let loose the steaming (or rather teeming) memories. And, such being the case, one can hardly wonder at overhearing the following conversation between two tourists on board the • Rob Roy :' Mr. Dundreary (who has just quoted four lines of Scott, taken from two different parts of the poem, and containing five errors). Weally, you know, it's so jolly, that one feels-aw-tempted to do nothing butaw-spout Scott, you know.' Mr. Testy (his friend and a pitcher). Then, I wish to goodness you'd spout him in the pawnbroker's sense of the word, and get rid of him altogether, for I'm sick of hearing him.' This worthy man's powers of endurance will be put to a severer test if he takes a boat to Ellen's Isle, for his oarsman will not consider that he is fulfilling the whole of his duty unless, by way of description, he 'spouts Scott;' and when this is done in a high-pitched monotone, and with a strong Scotch accent, the result is far from pleasing to a southern ear. This expedition to Ellen's Isle is, as a matter of course, the proper thing to do when at Loch Katrine, though there is a very good view of it from the steamer as she sails past it; and to me this view of the island (from its southern side), or the counterpart view obtained from the northern bank, were far preferable to the near views. At the present day, too, there is nothing extraordinary to be seen upon the island, which is thickly covered with foliage; the building erected by Lord Willoughby d'Eresby, in imitation of Douglas 'Lodge,' having been burnt down in 1837, a few years after it was built. Up to that time Ellen's Bower' was the great attraction of Ellen's Isle. The chairs were made of crooked branches of trees, and covered with deer skins; the tables were laden with armour and weapons, and the rough beams of the building were hung with antlers and other spoils of the chase.* But, although it has lost this artificial attraction, Ellen's Isle is as lovely an islet jewel as was ever set upon the fair bosom of a Highland lake; and, when viewed from a distance, or from either shore, is a truly lovely object. It is a mass of rock, thickly covered with trees, with one little bay-that which gave access to the shallop' of the fair Lady of the Lake. As the little craggy island rises to its highest point in its centre, and as its trees are compactly massed together, its general outline is so perfectly oval, that when the sun is shining upon its bright green foliage, it needs but a slight effort of fancy to imagine it a veritable emerald set in diamonds and silver. This is most clearly seen as we look at the island from the north shore of the lake, from that point where it has the mighty mass of Ben Venue for a background. Seen against the cold colours and rugged forms of the mountain side, the rounded outline of the island gleams sharply with bright emerald hues that catch the flicker of the sun, and are relieved by dark patches of intensest green. These hues and forms are mistily mirrored in the calm waters of the lake, along whose surface, as we now look at it, the sun has thrown a brilliant band of silver, glistening with diamonds, out of which the emerald jewel of the island stands proudly forth. Peaceful as it now looks, Ellen's Isle has doubtless had its share in those scenes of lawlessness for which * See Famous Persons and Famous Places, by N. P. Willis. 6 this district had so evil a name. Sir Walter Scott, it will be remembered, towards the end of "The Lady of the Lake,' gives the ballad of The Battle of Beal an Duine,' a pass in the Trosachs, and the women and children of the Clan Alpine are represented as fleeing for safety to this island, where Of yore the robber band and the incident of Duncraggan's widow'd dame' slaying the Saxon who swam to the island for a boat, was founded upon fact, although Sir Walter says, in a note, that this incident and the skirmish were greatly pos terior to the date of the reign of James V.' It is traditionally said to have happened during a fight between Cromwell's troopers and the Macgregors. CHAPTER XXII. BEN VENUE. Coir-nan-Uriskin, the Goblin's Cave-Where is the Cave?- PPOSITE to Ellen's Isle is another lion of Loch OPPO 6 Katrine, to which the boatmen usually convey the tourist after his light shallop' has left the silver strand of the Lady of the Lake. This is Coir-nanUriskin, the Cave of the Goblins,' a plateau projecting from the base of Ben Venue, and overhanging the lake. The plateau itself is amphitheatrical in form, 600 yards in width, and surrounded by tumultuous piles of rocks, huge fragments of which, hurled from the sides of Ben Venue, and arrested in their course by this 'dell upon the mountain's crest,' are scattered over the ground in every direction, and gave shelter (it is said) to foxes, wild-cats, and badgers. On scrambling up to this remarkable spot, with Ben Venue rising precipitously above us on the one side, and the rocks falling headlong to the lake on the other side, we naturally ask, 'Where is the cave?' But the cave is conspicuous by its absence, and cannot give back ‘a sharp and shrieking echo,' as it did when the ClanAlpine maids and matrons yelled vengeance upon the |