CHAPTER VIII.
The morning on which I repassed the sounding draw-bridge cleared up, and I had a fine drive by the Firth side to Inverness, towards which every step I took delighted me. Castle Stewart, Lord Moray's, is a fine old ruin, seven miles on the road; and the noble mountains running south-west, plainly pointed out the situation of the great lake, to the banks of which I was eagerly hastening. One mountain in particular fixed my attention, high towering above the rest, blue, and conical, the noon-sun shone brightly upon it;—I never saw any thing more sublime than it appeared: I afterwards learnt it to be Meal-fourvounie, on the north side of Loch Ness, opposite to the Fall of Fyres.
About two or three miles from Inverness, I saw, at a small distance from the road, the new house of Culloden; and on one side of it (but not