THE QUEEN OF SCOTTISH LAKES.

IT seems strange that Loch Mame, which in Scotland is most justly styled the " Queen of Scottish lochs," is so little known. Since 1877, when, as a memorial-stone records, the "Ban Righ Bhictoria "—that is to say, the " She-King Victoria" —visited the peerless lake, it has become rather better known ; but still the number of its visitors is small,—very small indeed, we are inclined to think, when its attractions of beauty and regal splendour are considered. In the present paper, an attempt is made to describe the lake and its environment in such a way that the reader may form a mental picture of the scene, and be able to judge of its beauty, to some extent, for himself. By way of first sketching the outline of such a picture, a few brief remarks upon the shape, size, and position of the lake are, unfortunately, necessary. From the map of Scotland it can be seen that the eastern shore is, roughly speaking, straight ; that the direction of that shore is due south-east ; and further, that the greatest length of the lake—more than twelve miles—lies along, or close beside, that eastern or north-eastern shore. It will appear, moreover, that the lower part of the lake, for six and a half miles from the south-eastern end, is a narrow sheet of water varying in width from half-a-mile to a mile ; and that at the opposite, or north-western end, the lake assumes a similar shape for somewhat less than two miles, though here it is still narrower, being of a fairly even width of about half-a-mile. Of these elongated ends we shall not have much to say ; it is the middle part that will claim our chief attention. The outline of this middle part may perhaps be beet described by saying that the western shore is here curved roughly into the shape of a rather shallow sickle, the lower elongation of the lake repre- senting the handle. From haft to point this sickle measures nearly four miles, and the distance from the innermost part of the bight to the straight eastern shore is about two and a quarter. We will make our survey from the top of a mountain 1,100ft. high—Craig Tollie by name—which forms the western or south-western boundary of the upper of the two prolongations of the lake, its south-eastern side sloping down to the point-end of the sickle.

A noble pair of eagles, which are not uncommon in the district, are wheeling majestically about the crest of Craig Tollie as we approach it by one of General Wade's roads. It is hard to believe that this road was any worse than it is now, even before it was made, for it is difficult to distinguish it from the rest of the rocky moss-land round it, and when, as happens in places, the mountain-stream chooses the road for the bed of its current, the road is quite the worst walking of any part of the ground. After a steep climb of five or six hundred feet from the road, we reach the top of Craig Tollie, and find that a single sheep is the only living creature that appears besides ourselves upon the high plateau.

The day is quite calm, and the sky is wholly overcast with high cloud, light-grey, and almost semi-luminous. The air is strangely clear; and the view in every direction is indeed marvellous. There is not only Loch Maree stretching to the south-east for ten miles or more, which, at a casual glance, might be mistaken for three; but look where we will, there is a grand prospect. To the south-west are the cloud-wrapt hills of Skye, and to the north-west, across the Minch—forty miles away at least—the high land of the Lews is plainly visible. Groups of smaller islands lie scattered here and there, and on the coast we can see four or five large arms of the sea, or salt- water lochs. On the mainland are tarns and lochs of various sizes—some more than a miler long—and at different levels, to the number—not counting every pool—of more than fifty. Without reckoning each individual peak, or the very distant hills, there are, between the points of North-East and South, not less than thirty great mountains, ranging from 2,000 ft. up to 3,500 ft. in height. Nineteen or twenty of these are to the west and south of the lower half of Loch Maree—the nearest within six or seven miles of our standpoint—and the elopes of some of them form great part of its western shore.

Scotland abounds with mountains carved by Nature into shapes almost more whimsical than fancy could have drawn them; but surely nowhere can this group—the mountains of Torridon—be surpassed in grotesque boldness and diversification. They stand thronging one another, but the eye can divide them into several short ranks running off from the lake. "Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise !" Four or five are conical— one seamed by a torrent's course from top to base—with outlines steep and straight, until lost to sight behind other masses. Some are vast ridges, with huge pyramidal flanks. In almost all, the rock is grey and bare, and little roundness can be seen. Among such hills another Bip Van Winkle might carouse with a crew of goblin topers. Two cataracts gleam, one right behind the other, five and ten miles away, both "frozen by distance." To- day the mountains stand in sharp relief, and not a lineament of all their rugged visages is lost; but yesterday vast rolling clouds, bursting with rain, enveloped them entirely, save when, now a lofty peak, now a monstrous gable, reared its solitary form above the billows of the air in nnearthlyand mysterious grandeur.

A range of six or seven smaller mountains starts from a point about two miles south-west of our station, and trends southward into the midst of the others. Between this outwork and the wide portion of the lake stands a beautiful and striking hill, called Bus-beinn or Bois-beinn. About five miles from us it rises in craggy knolls, with steep and almost precipitous scams at the waterside, to a height of nearly a thousand feet, and stretches away for three miles or more without greatly ex- ceeding this elevation—for if it did, we should not have our view of the other mountains—and then swells into a high, round shoulder, beyond which a grassy cone, nearly three thou- sand feet in height, forms a shapely finial to the whole. Down the side towards us the nearer foaming cataract rushes, flowing peacef ally into the lake at last between green fields and a coppice of dark fir. This spot, the westernmost of the whole lake, is known by the name of Slattadale. Of the rest of the western side, not much need be said. No very striking feature appears on this shore at the lower end of the lake, the six miles of narrower water that have been men- tioned. Near to us it is well wooded, and the mountain- sides running down to it, though far from tame, elope more gently than most parts of the shore, and are divided by several broad straths. Between that tract and the steep crags by Slattadale there is another spot, deep in the bosom of the bay, distinguished like Slattadale by wood and verdant grass. It bears the softly sounding name of Talladale. The upper, narrow portion of the lake is hidden from our view. It is bounded on the west by the steep scams in which the eastern side of Craig Tollie terminates. Between Craig Tollie and Slattadale the braes sloping down to the water's-edge are varied with a wood of the stiff, dark fir, and a large clump of lighter ash. These braes for a mile or two from our position are surmounted by crags rising to a height of thirteen or fourteen hundred feet above the sea, curiously split up by horizontal and vertical clefts and fissures filled with herbage. The colour

of the braes is most peculiar. It is not green in the least, except little patches here and there, but orange. This orange. coloured grass is characteristic of the region. Thus have we accounted for the western shore. At the foot of the lake— or, more properly, the head, the south-western end—a green valley extends until our view is blocked by the intersecting slopes of high mountains, and beyond them the far distance also is crowned with a diadem of shadowy summits.

Looking now to the eastern shore, we have a scene far different, but with no inharmonious diversity. This, which we have hitherto referred to as the straight side, consists of three high and noble mountains. Straight indeed it is, inasmuch as throughout its twelve miles of length its general direction is due south-east ; but from our lofty station we see that it is traced most delicately in curving bays and rounded coves, with here a jutting cape, and there a frowning promontory. The lines of Scott upon the hills of Yarrow that form the southern boundary of "lone St. Mary's silent lake," are here still more appro- priate :—

"Nor fen nor sedge Pollutes the clear lake's crystal edge; Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink At ones upon the level brink ; And just a trace of silver sand

Marks where the water meets the land."

Just a trace, as at that tapering point—evidently formed of earth washed down for ages by the rain—which projects into the lake at its broadest part. That half of it which lies nearest to the mountain is covered with a crescent-shaped wood of firs the other grassy half runs far into the water, with concave sides blending exquisitely into a glistening needle-point of sand or shingle. The verge of this steep shore, however, is in most places the bare rock, washed bright by lapping wavelets; though in some places the cliff appears too steep for the for- mation of any water-mark broad enough to be discerned. At the lower part of the lake, the woods which fringe the foot of the mountains almost all along seem to grow right down to the water's-edge ; but this may be an effect of distance.

But we must shun mere details, for we have three big mountains to describe. The nearest of these three subtends our sickle. This hill is called the nearest you can get to "Beinn Airidh a 'Char," for which "Ben Arry Her" is a convenient euphemism. Beinn Airidh a 'Char is a mass of bare rock with a peak more than 2,500 ft. high, and a number of minor pinnacles rising over its surface, like the crowded minarets of a mosque. Another freakish point about it is that its surface is so scored and corrugated, that at a distance it appears covered with wrinkles. There is no wood upon its steep sides except quite at the foot, and two shallow glens form the only breaks that appear in the whole of this shore. By the waterside stands the only house in sight. The second mountain is Beinn Lair, a great rounded mass approaching 3,000 ft. in height, which runs down to the water from behind Beinn Airidh a 'Char, and bounds the lake for about two miles below it. Its highest point is hidden behind the other mountain. Beyond it, completing the eastern shore, stands Ben Slioch. No other single object in the whole scene is so conspicuous as this majestic mountain. It rises boldly by itself, and but for some outlying spurs, would be completely separate from any of the others. Like some primeval guardian of the lake, it stands distinguished from its compeers by greater height and inde- pendent situation. Such sentinels are found by many lakes. As Skiddaw stands by Bassenthwaite, and Ledi by Looh Vennachar, as stern Cruachan, with his double crest, keeps watch and ward by the dark waters of Loch Awe, so Slosh guards by Loch Maree. Though it was formerly supposed to exceed 4,000 ft. in height, and to be the third or fourth of British mountains, it is now ascertained to be no more than 3,200 ft. odd ; but, nevertheless, it has all essential attributes of dignity and grandeur. We see its total elevation at a glance, for the lake is only thirty-two feet above the sea-level. It is conical in shape, with a peak symmetrical but not acute. Its steep but flowing sides, about half-way between the summit and the foot, interrupt their descent to form, on the right, two smaller peaks, and on the left a single one somewhat larger, after which they sweep gracefully down to the lower ground. This noble mountain is green up to the top, " but his brow deep scars of thunder have intrencht." Long ruddy seams radiate from the apex, showing where the rock of which it is composed has been laid bare in warfare with the elements. If we were near enough, we should see, mustered around the central •

summit and only a little below, a circlet of inferior peaks like satellites round a planet. This little bodyguard consists, to all appearance, of a harder rock remaining undestroyed, while that which once conjoined its casques, with one another and with the capital crest, under one protecting panoply, has been gradually removed. Such is Ben Slioeh, with whose exalted form the circuit of the lake, in the order of our survey, is completed.

The colours of the whole scene, though not brilliant, are varied, and not dull. The rocks are chiefly grey, though reddish tints can here and there be seen. The water, too, is silver-grey, save where " the wild cataract leaps in glory." Just in front is rich brown peat, and further off, on the right, are the warm orange undulations, flowing down to the lake-side, with bright streaks and patches of fern and green grass intermingled. Dark firs and light ash-trees give variety to the green, as does the short grass on the high levels, which is of the common hue. Singular to say, we can see no heather. Several little fields of bright yellow corn at the water's edge—one shining like a golden tip at the extreme end of the silver lake—add a cheerful touch to the colouring, and a charm of peacefulness,—a foil to what were else, perhaps, too purely wild.

But as yet we have said nothing of the lake itself, though there the eye is fascinated by a feature which confers a charm and indi- viduality unique among the lakes of Britain. On its broad bosom is a multitude of woody islands, of outlines most bewilderingly intricate. In length they vary from a mile to only six or seven yards. All, or all save one or two, are in the wide portion of the lake, chiefly in the lower half of that wide portion; so close together, that in places the narrow, sinuous passages that divide them are partly hidden by.the trees, so that we do not always know with certainty whether we see separate islands or different parts of one. Almost all are thickly or entirely covered with dark woods, though a few are graced with silvan lawns ; and each is girdled by a margin of grey rock, bright through the ceaseless laving of the water. Not counting bare rocks, or every tiny islet that supports a solitary tree, they number nearly thirty. Crowded together as they lie, with intertwining channels and profiles fretted into most elaborate tracery, they look like that paradise through which, in "Prometheus Unbound," the enchanted boat of Asia's soul is borne — " Elysian garden islets," "and watery paths that wind between wildernesses calm and green." "Peopled by shapes too bright to see," we are tempted to add also, for something as of fairyland clings round them. The eye is so beguiled and baffled by the witchery of their winding outlines, that we are almost fain to murmur, with the voice that chants in high aerial antiphony the hymn to Asia's dazzling beauty:- " Screen those looks, where whose gazes Faints, entangled in their mazes."

One image, one alone, arises to which these clustered islands, and shimmering waterways that wreathe around them, may fitly be compared. A counterpart of that we see below may be sometimes seen above, when in calm depths of air the moon- beams bathe some group of stilly clouds. Some of these islets are but rocks, all bare and wan ; some light with glades of golden green ; most, clothed with wood, but girt with a shining marge, be darkling on the mere in labyrinthine contour. And like them are the islands of the firmament. Most, impervious to the moon, are yet embroidered with a silver edging ; some are in places lustrous, but with subdued and misty light ; some scattered flakes and spangles glow throughout in argent brightness.

It may be confidently said that of all who soon will seek the glories or the beauties of this land of ever-varied charm and splendour, not one shall see a fairer or a nobler sight than he who, from such vantage-ground as ours, looks down upon this queen of lakes reposing in her peaceful majesty, her bosom decked with islet-gems ; while mighty Slioch, chief of her haughty peerage of attendant mountains, " like Teneriff or Atlas unremoved," stands proudly at her side.