I had passed in the morning were obscured by mist and the approach of night, for it was scarcely driving light when I reached Callender. On entering the inn, I found my rooms stripped of their carpets, to cover new-made or new-making hay ricks, in order to screen them from the rain; and it was then so late as the 20th of September.
The next day I took a little boy for my guide, and proceeded (by the road that leads from Callender, over the hills, to Comrie) to Brackland Brig, and the cascades at it of the water of Kelty, or violent. I was told it was not a mile to walk thither, but I found it at least two. The glen about the bridge is extremely narrow and deep; and, until I came within the noise of the cascades, I perceived nothing that indicated the romantic horror which had been described to me. But on descending a steep field, close to the top of the falls, I found them grand and beautiful; dashing in different directions, heights, and breadths, till the water roars and foams through the deep chasm under the bridge, to the pool just below it, which is, at least, sixty feet beneath the bridge. The path to get at the bridge is about one foot and a half wide, upon the jutting sides of high towering rocks, from which sprout wood, from the depth
