a day in the year free from rain, in Glen Croe? and on the hill called, "Rest-and-be-Thankful?" no day; no not one! So says the Argyleshire almanack. As soon as I crossed the river Kinglass, and quitted that glen; I got out of the chaise, for then it became somewhat fair above, and turned my steps to the steep of the mountain: a torrent rolled on my right, towering black crags were to my left, and, at a short distance, a broad roaring cataract faced me, dashing over the huge masses of rock, which every where crowd this mountain hollow. For although I had ascended a tremendous steep mountain for about three-quarters of a mile, I still found myself in a hollow, with rough, black, and craggy rocks, prodigiously high above me, in every form and direction, streaming with never-ceasing springs, and striped with numberless white torrents. Some of the crags on the hollow top of this mountain, hang so concave over the pass as to present a scene of awful darkness; and there is a small lake in this mountain gap, so shaded by the black crags hanging over it, that the water of it appears to be really black. Advancing through this rough and craggy pass, I came to the edge of it, looking down into Glen Croe. Whether I looked around
