Taking one more soul-filling look up to the mighty Ben, on the side of the loch, and to the hills at its head, chief among which, and closing the distant vista, is Ben Voirlich, it is perhaps time to think of the train, for yonder is the “Queen” coming down the loch. As you begin to retrace your steps do not forget that standing on this hill you can see Renton, where Smollett the historian was born; Killearn, where George Buchanan first saw the light of day; and Garlios, the birthplace of Napier, the inventor of logarithms—all of whom added a new lustre to the literature and science of Scotland. Also take a peep at Tillichewan in its sylvan beauty, and the gentle slopes of the hillside forming such a picturesque background to it. And in recrossing the bridge it will help you to pay your second halfpenny with more complacency if you remember that possibly before the creation of man this valley was covered with the dashing waves of the Atlantic and German Oceans. For at that far back period all Scotland was under water except its highest peaks, which would then be like so many islands in one great sea. Down the stream a little way is Alexandria, suggestive of the lost Cleopatra’s Needle in the past and British influence in the present. And it may surprise you to learn that this grand mouth-filling name is one of recent date comparatively, and that its former title was of a more homely kind—namely, “The Grocery,” from a store which formerly kept the indispensable articles shadowed forth in that word of unclassical derivation. As you pass it directly in the train you see it to be now a large and prosperous place, which requires more than one “Grocery”—a place Where cloth’s printed, dyed, and steamed, Bleached, tentered, in the water streamed, Starched, mangled, calender’d, and beamed, And folded very carefully. You reach Glasgow five hours after leaving the hill, with many pleasant recollections of your trip to Mount Misery. BEN LEDI. The most popular excursion in Scotland, both with ourselves and with strangers from all parts of the world, is that which takes us to, and through, the Trossachs. But it is somewhat unfortunate that the idea exists in the public mind that it is an impossible excursion to any but rich people on account of its expense. We propose to-day to lead any who are willing to follow us to one of our Scottish mountains which more than any other may feel proud of its surroundings, which is, so to speak, at the very gate of the Trossachs, and to reach and climb which demands no great expenditure of time or of money although we can scarcely add strength, for Ben Ledi is not one of the easiest of our western hills to climb. And yet it was not till Sir Walter Scott threw the spell of his genius over this district that it was regarded as anything else than a desolate, cut-throat country, into which no decent folk could venture.