But on the other hand, if money is no consideration and walking is, you can get a ride over and back for the reasonable sum of six shillings, by the new coach road recently and well (in a double sense) made by no less a person than his Grace of Montrose. Before reaching the summit you have the slate quarries, giving employment to about 100 men, on your left, and after passing the summit you have the Gloomy Glen, and Loch Drunkie, with which it communicates, on your right. Here also you get an instalment of the land of the mountain and the flood, and as you see Ben Venue now towering in its lonely greatness to the left, apparently much higher, though nearly 500 feet less than Ben Ledi in front of you, a little to the left, you begin to wish you could drive right up. A few steps further and you are in sight of “the Lake of the Level Plain,” with “bold Ben A’an” standing aloof to the north. Even the rude mountains seem to wear a gentler look as they meet the pure gaze of “lovely Loch Achray,” and the place is a very sanctuary of sweet and quiet influences. The ascent is best made by leaving the coach road at Achray House, before coming to the wooden bridge on the Teith as it is about to fall into Loch Achray. Pass through the offices of Mr. Thomson, to whose family we Glasgow people are indebted for so large and so cheap a park as we have at Camphill, go across the burn coming down Glen Reoch, and keep on the grass-grown cart road, with the Teith on your right, till near the sluice between Loch Katrine and the burn which is its overflow. This overflow is not now so large as before we in Glasgow began to make such a pull on Loch Katrine. Here, on the left, you will see a clump of eight or ten trees, chiefly birch, with a mountain stream to the right of it, and there is the place where you should begin your climb, keeping this little stream on your right, keeping near to it for guidance, refreshment, and to cool your fevered brow. When you have reached the first beginnings of the tiny stream, keep to the right under the shade of a great rock, at the far end of it turn to the left, make for the ridge before you, and when you have reached it, the last and pleasantest part of the climb is now to the right, amid largish rocks, which make the approach to the summit something like the burying-place of giants, and, strange to say, it is all covered over with “ladies mantles.” On the way up specimens may be gathered, if you are that way inclined, of the Burnet saxifrage, moneywort, and marjoram; also, of the juniper and yew, the fruit of the latter being exceedingly beautiful with its bright red waxen cup holding the seed.