The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1884-04-11
Through the Highlands.

| the early train" Ion, certainly, we must
not miss that How is the weather."
g Beautiful" "That is good, but of course
it will rain before we have breakfast
| Well, here we are on the wing once more.
''Look here, we get fine view of the castle
from this side of our car" "Ah, yes, it
stands out clear cut against the sky. But
our train speeds swiftly northward. In a
few minutes it will be out of sight. So
quick, take your last look" s'All right.
Good bye, old Sterling, with all your many
historic memories GO See, yonder is the
picturesque stone Bridge of Forth, near
which Wallace gained decisive victory over
the English, under Cressingham." And SO
onward we fly past Abbey Crag with the Wal
lace monument, Cambuskenneth Abbey, the
Bridge of Allen, much frequented watering
place, and the picturesque, half-ruined Nor
man Cathedral of Dunblane until at last we
reach the village of Callander, where we
alight from our car and take seats on the top
of an English coach.
4 Six or eight of these four-horsed vehicles
have been awaiting the arrival of our train.
AS soon as the cars stop, host of ''towerists,
various" nationalities, looks and tempera-
ment, rush for the best outside seats on these
stages. All, here we are fixed all right SO
we can now look about. Ha ha, ha, what
an excited crowd. "Observe that little fat
man with the red face yonder, struggling
with q great heavy trunk-like valise." ''What
| is the matter with him Why is he SO en-
raged?" sob, he is fighting mad because
the driver will not let him take his baggage
with him on the top of the coach"
Behind us is small company of Germans,
while in front of us lady and two gentlemen
are talking excitedly in French. Look! The
drivers are gathering up their lines. +" Get
up" "Get upn $50 long, Crack,
snap go half dozen whips, and away we
spin in grand style through the narrow streets
of the sleepy little town of Callander, along
splendid roadway out into the beautiful
country to the west of it.
Nothing could be more exhilarating than
this morning ride on the top of this great
coach, with gay company of fellow ex-
cursionists, along this splendid road under a
cloudless sky and through the loveliest coun-
young again. Oh, how we would like to
shout.
From Callander we drive westward until
we reach Kilmahog toll, where, turning to
the left, we cross the River Leny. From
this point onward the country gradually be-
comes more ruggedly picturesque. Great tree
less hills swell up and roll away on every
side of us. We are now entering the vesti-
bule of the enchanted country of Scott's :" Lady
of the Lake" for, as we wind along spur of
Benledi (on the top of which lies g Simpsons
Putting Stone" large boulder, ready, SEEM
ingly to roll down at the slightest touch),
our driver-always get a seat near to the
driver if you can-points away to the left and
says: DO you see the ruins of that old mill
in the meadow by yonder stream" Yes"
"Well, near that is Coiantogle Ford, the
spot where Roderick Dhu challenged Fitz
James to single combat saving:
See here all vantageless | stand,
Armed like thyself with single brand,
For this is Coilantogle Ford
And thou must keep thee with thy sword
A little further on we drive along the
smooth road skirting Loeb Venachar, fine
sheet of water about five miles in length. AS
we now hasten on our way, heavy Scotch
misty" pours down upon our defenceless
heads We are not taken by surprise. The
surprise would have been if it had not rained.
1t is remarkable how quickly bright sky
becomes overcast with weeping clouds 1T
rains here when you amt looking" remarked
gentleman at our side. Yes, and it never
rains but pours" Of course this is very I'M
comfortable for tourists, but these High
landers do not seem to mind it. An umbrella
is an article they never use. When 1t rains
very hard they put on an opera glass and sail
around with a smile. A ducking does not
incommode them in the least. Sunshine and
transforms are the same to them.
The country through which We now pass is
interesting but it is by no means beautiful
The mountains are not high enough to be
grand These highlands are great, brown
treeless hills; gloomy, but by no means as
picturesque as our Hudson river scenery. To
my mind this part of Scotland is not near so
attractive as the lake district of England.
Just before we reach the Trossachs we pass
the highland huts of Duncraggan, little
group of the rudest and most cherries hui
man habitations we have ever seen. The
houses, if these wretehed huts can be digni-
fed with such a name, are from ten to sixteen
feet square, with side walls, not over six feet
high, windowless and rooted with straw
| Even Ireland cannot show humber - homes"
than these cherries huts of Duncraggan, but
elsewhere as here we find the same evidence
of extreme poverty in the homes of these
highlanders. Their houses are no better
than their stables which most frequently are
all under one roof. Cattle, sheep, chickens
and children are all mixed together and treat
ed as one common family. But these peo-
pie are a hard working, persevering set. If
they were in the least indolent they would
starve in this rugged country which is not
cultivated like the rural districts of England.
Stone walls are more common than hedges,
and an absence of both is frequently conspic-
uous The roads are simple turnpikes, more
| indebted to travel than to the road-master for
their surfaces and are so like our own at
home in their roughness as to be a welcome
sight to homesick American. 1t has taken