"So we engaged one of the boats, and went down to it on the beach, and put our baggage in. And this is the end of my part of the account. Waldron is to write the rest. "ROLLO." * * * * * "We all got into the boat; that is, we three, and some other ladies and gentlemen that came over the mountain about the same time with us. The wind was blowing pretty fresh, and the middle of the lake was very rough, and some of the ladies were afraid to go; but we told them there was no danger. "The boatman said that we would go right across the loch, and then we should get under the lee of the land on the eastern shore, and there we should be sheltered from the wind, and the water would be smooth. "I told him that I could row, and asked him to let me take one of the oars; and he said I might. But one of the ladies was afraid to have me do it. She said she was afraid that I should upset the boat. "This was nonsense; for it is not possible to upset a boat by any kind of rowing, if it is ever so bad. "The boatman told her that there was no danger, and that, if I could really row, I could help him so much that we should get across the part of the lake where the wind blew and the waves run high so much the sooner. So she consented at last, and I took one of the oars, and we rowed across the loch in fine style. We pitched about a good deal in the middle passage, and the lady was dreadfully frightened; but when we got across the water became smooth, and we sailed very pleasantly along the shore. "The shores were winding and very pretty, and the farther we went the narrower the lake became, and the mountains became higher and higher. At last we came to a narrow place between two mountains, where the pass of the Trossachs began. The mountain on one side was Ben Venue. The one on the other side was Benan. The shores at the foot of these mountains were covered with woods, and the place was very wild. There was an island in the middle of the lake here, called Ellen's Isle. This island was high and rocky, and covered with woods, like the shores adjacent to it. "This island is very famous, on account of a poem that Walter Scott wrote about it, called the Lady of the Lake. The lake was this Loch Katrine, and the lady was Ellen. She went back and forth to the island in a boat, in some way or other, but I do not know the story exactly. Mr. George is going to buy the Lady of the Lake when we get to Edinburgh, and read it to us, and then we shall know. "The island is small and rocky, but it is so covered with trees and bushes that we hardly see the rocks. They peep out here and there. The banks rise very steep, and the water looks very deep close to the shore. We sailed by the island, and then the water grew narrower and narrower, until at last we were closely shut in, and then soon we came to the landing.