It is no part of our plan to describe that wilderness of beauty, “all in the Trossachs Glen,” which attracts so many tourists from all parts of the world year after year. But if our hill climber has got any superfluous energy after he has gone up and come down, it would be a pity to be so near the Trossachs without actually seeing the famed and fabled spot. It is to be hoped that you have brought with you more than the three brown biscuits recommended by Dr. John Brown, because accommodation for man and beast is but scarce in this part of the country, except to those who are not suffering from a depression of trade. The walk or drive over to Aberfoyle in the cool of the evening will enable you to catch the last train, which brings you to the city shortly after eight o’clock. But even if you should miss it, you can telegraph the fact to your friends at home, and resign yourself to the enjoyment of a few extra hours in one of the finest districts in Scotland. It is not given to every one to miss a train, and afterwards be thankful for the mishap, nor to repent openly and honestly for the harsh words which escaped his lips when he saw the tail-end of the guard’s van vanishing down the line. And yet we would not be surprised to learn that such had been your condition in the supposed circumstances. Your gratitude and your repentance might be alike sincere. THE COBBLER, OR BEN ARTHUR. It is not known why several of our Scottish hills take their name from the Welsh Prince Arthur, of whom no other trace remains in the country, but it appears that they have been traditionally considered to be places of sovereignty. For example, it is said that that huge mountain at the opening of Glencroe, the naked rocky summit of which is thought to bear some resemblance to a shoemaker at work and bent to draw his thread, and which is therefore called the Cobbler, being at one time considered the most lofty and conspicuous mountain in the domain of the Campbells, had to be climbed by the heir of that chieftainship, who was obliged to seat himself on its loftiest peak, a task of some difficulty and danger, which, if neglected, his lands went to the next relative who was sufficiently adventurous to scale its heights. Though we may not have the bribe of a dukedom to entice us, nor any special need of paying a visit to a shoemaker, yet a climb to the top of this well-known but seldom scaled steep will live in our memories as a most pleasurable toil.