But it is time to descend, though it would be pleasant, doubtless, to linger here till sunset, and see those mountain heights shining like stars in the departing radiance, while all beneath was covered with shadow; and if the evening were still, to listen to the mingled murmur which ever ascends through the calm air, from a region of streams and torrents. Coasting along the lake we reach Inversnaid mill at its upper extremity, and securing some Highland ponies, little tough shaggy fellows, sure-footed and self-willed, we ramble through a lonely, rock-bound glen, the scene of the feats of Rob Roy Macgregor. In one of the smoky huts of this glen we are shown a long Spanish musket, six feet and a half in length, said to have belonged to the famous outlaw, whose original residence was in this lonely region. We also pass the hut in which Helen Macgregor, his wife, was born and brought up. By forgetting a few years, one can easily imagine the whole region filled with wild 'kilted' Highlanders, shouting the war-cry of Macdonald, Glengarry, or Macgregor. The spirit of these wild clans has been admirably depicted by Sir Walter Scott. Nothing can be more spirited than his "Gathering of Clan-Gregor," which in this rough glen, seems to gather a peculiar intensity of meaning. "The moon's on the lake, the mist's on the brae, And the clan has a name that is nameless by day; Then gather, gather, gather, Gregalich! Our signal for fight that from monarchs we drew, Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo; Then haloo, Gregalich, haloo Gregalich! Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers, Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours; We're landless, landless, Gregalich! But doomed and devoted by vassal and lord, Macgregor has still both his heart and his sword; Then courage, courage, courage, Gregalich! If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles, Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the eagles; Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Gregalich! While there's leaves in the forest, or foam on the river, Macgregor despite them, shall flourish forever! Come then, Gregalich! Come then, Gregalich! Through the depths of Lochkatrine the steed shall career, O'er the peak of Benlomond the galley shall steer, And the rocks of Craig-Royston, like icicles melt, Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt! Then gather, gather, gather, Gregalich!"