each side. The same idea occurred when I saw Dovedale, in Derbyshire.
At Newton is a romantic bridge, over the Almond; and on the north of it are two or three huts.
The road to Amulrie there leaves Glen Almond, and proceeds to Strath Brand. While my horses were resting at the huts, called Newton, I walked up about two miles in Glen Almond, and every step opened a new beauty to my sight. The Glen increases in width, and is tolerably well wooded, particularly on the banks of the river; the fields producing grass, barley, and oats. On the north side of the river, from the top of a very high mountain, falls a torrent, which in violent rains must be magnificent. It had been many days fine weather when I saw this torrent, notwithstanding it was grand. I sat down to rest at the entrance of the fall into the Almond, among huge pieces of rocks brought down by its force, admiring the scene with delight; surrounded by birch, alder, mountain ash, with other trees; fern, and all sorts of large aquatic plants and weeds; the torrent tumbling from above, and dashing beneath against the huge
