A Journey to the Western Isles of Scotland
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第66章 INCH KENNETH(6)

This,however,is not the only impediment.The Scots,with a vigilance of jealousy which never goes to sleep,always suspect that an Englishman despises them for their poverty,and to convince him that they are not less rich than their neighbours,are sure to tell him a price higher than the true.When Lesley,two hundred years ago,related so punctiliously,that a hundred hen eggs,new laid,were sold in the Islands for a peny,he supposed that no inference could possibly follow,but that eggs were in great abundance.Posterity has since grown wiser;and having learned,that nominal and real value may differ,they now tell no such stories,lest the foreigner should happen to collect,not that eggs are many,but that pence are few.

Money and wealth have by the use of commercial language been so long confounded,that they are commonly supposed to be the same;and this prejudice has spread so widely in Scotland,that I know not whether I found man or woman,whom I interrogated concerning payments of money,that could surmount the illiberal desire of deceiving me,by representing every thing as dearer than it is.

From Lochbuy we rode a very few miles to the side of Mull,which faces Scotland,where,having taken leave of our kind protector,Sir Allan,we embarked in a boat,in which the seat provided for our accommodation was a heap of rough brushwood;and on the twenty-second of October reposed at a tolerable inn on the main land.

On the next day we began our journey southwards.The weather was tempestuous.For half the day the ground was rough,and our horses were still small.Had they required much restraint,we might have been reduced to difficulties;for I think we had amongst us but one bridle.We fed the poor animals liberally,and they performed their journey well.In the latter part of the day,we came to a firm and smooth road,made by the soldiers,on which we travelled with great security,busied with contemplating the scene about us.

The night came on while we had yet a great part of the way to go,though not so dark,but that we could discern the cataracts which poured down the hills,on one side,and fell into one general channel that ran with great violence on the other.The wind was loud,the rain was heavy,and the whistling of the blast,the fall of the shower,the rush of the cataracts,and the roar of the torrent,made a nobler chorus of the rough musick of nature than it had ever been my chance to hear before.The streams,which ran cross the way from the hills to the main current,were so frequent,that after a while I began to count them;and,in ten miles,reckoned fifty-five,probably missing some,and having let some pass before they forced themselves upon my notice.At last we came to Inverary,where we found an inn,not only commodious,but magnificent.

The difficulties of peregrination were now at an end.Mr.Boswell had the honour of being known to the Duke of Argyle,by whom we were very kindly entertained at his splendid seat,and supplied with conveniences for surveying his spacious park and rising forests.

After two days stay at Inverary we proceeded Southward over Glencroe,a black and dreary region,now made easily passable by a military road,which rises from either end of the glen by an acclivity not dangerously steep,but sufficiently laborious.In the middle,at the top of the hill,is a seat with this inscription,'Rest,and be thankful.'Stones were placed to mark the distances,which the inhabitants have taken away,resolved,they said,'to have no new miles.'

In this rainy season the hills streamed with waterfalls,which,crossing the way,formed currents on the other side,that ran in contrary directions as they fell to the north or south of the summit.Being,by the favour of the Duke,well mounted,I went up and down the hill with great convenience.

From Glencroe we passed through a pleasant country to the banks of Loch Lomond,and were received at the house of Sir James Colquhoun,who is owner of almost all the thirty islands of the Loch,which we went in a boat next morning to survey.The heaviness of the rain shortened our voyage,but we landed on one island planted with yew,and stocked with deer,and on another containing perhaps not more than half an acre,remarkable for the ruins of an old castle,on which the osprey builds her annual nest.Had Loch Lomond been in a happier climate,it would have been the boast of wealth and vanity to own one of the little spots which it incloses,and to have employed upon it all the arts of embellishment.But as it is,the islets,which court the gazer at a distance,disgust him at his approach,when he finds,instead of soft lawns;and shady thickets,nothing more than uncultivated ruggedness.

Where the Loch discharges itself into a river,called the Leven,we passed a night with Mr.Smollet,a relation of Doctor Smollet,to whose memory he has raised an obelisk on the bank near the house in which he was born.The civility and respect which we found at every place,it is ungrateful to omit,and tedious to repeat.Here we were met by a post-chaise,that conveyed us to Glasgow.

To describe a city so much frequented as Glasgow,is unnecessary.

The prosperity of its commerce appears by the greatness of many private houses,and a general appearance of wealth.It is the only episcopal city whose cathedral was left standing in the rage of Reformation.It is now divided into many separate places of worship,which,taken all together,compose a great pile,that had been some centuries in building,but was never finished;for the change of religion intercepted its progress,before the cross isle was added,which seems essential to a Gothick cathedral.