While we contemplated all these objects with pleasure and admiration, an English gentleman of the party said to Mr. B——, “There is not a prospect equal to this in all France or Germany, and not any superior even in England.” “That I well believe,” replied the Caledonian; “but if I had you in Scotland, I could shew you several with which this is by no means to be compared.” “Indeed! Pray in what part of Scotland are they to be seen?” “I presume you never was at the castle of Edinburgh, Sir?” “Never.” “Or at Stirling?” “Never.” “Did you ever see Loch Lomond, Sir?” “I never did.” “I suppose I need not ask, whether you have ever been in Aberdeenshire, or the Highlands, or—” “I must confess once for all,” interrupted the Englishman, “that I have the misfortune never to have seen any part of Scotland.” “Then I am not surprised,” said the Scot, taking a large pinch of snuff, “that you think this the finest view you ever saw.” “I presume you think those in Scotland a great deal finer?” “A very great deal indeed, Sir; why that lake, for example, is a pretty thing enough; I dare swear, many an English nobleman would give a good deal to have such another before his house; but Loch Lomond is thirty miles in length, Sir! there are above twenty islands in it, Sir! that is a lake for you. As for their desert of a Campagna, as they call it, no man who has eyes in his head, Sir, will compare it to the fertile valley of Stirling, with the Forth, the most beautiful river in Europe, twining through it.” “Do you really in your conscience imagine,” said the Englishman, “that the Forth is a finer river than the Thames?” “The Thames!” exclaimed the North Briton, “Why, my dear Sir, the Thames at London is a mere gutter, in comparison of the Firth of Forth at Edinburgh.” “I suppose then,” said the Englishman, recovering himself, “you do not approve of the view from Windsor Castle?” “I ask your pardon,” replied the other; “I approve of it very much; it is an exceeding pretty kind of a prospect; the country appears from it as agreeable to the sight as any plain flat country, crowded with trees, and intersected by enclosures, can well do; but I own I am of opinion, that mere fertile fields, woods, rivers, and meadows, can never, of themselves, perfectly satisfy the eye.” “You imagine, no doubt,” said the Englishman, “that a few heath-covered mountains and rocks embellish a country very much?” “I am precisely of that opinion,” said the Scot; “and you will as soon convince me that a woman may be completely beautiful with fine eyes, good teeth, and a fair complexion, though she should not have a _nose_ on her face, as that a landscape, or country, can be completely beautiful without a mountain.” “Well, but here are mountains enough,” resumed the other; “look around you.” “Mountains!” cried the Caledonian, “very pretty mountains, truly! They call that Castel Gondolfo of theirs a castle too, and a palace, forsooth! but does that make it