These little rivulets, no doubt, often lead
through the wildest scenery that is to be found in the Highlands, or
anywhere else, and to the formation and wildness of which they have
greatly contributed by sawing away for countless ages, and thus deepening
the ravines.
I suspect the American clouds are more picturesque than those of Great
Britain, whatever our mountains may be; at least, I remember the
Berkshire hills looking grander, under the influence of mist and cloud,
than the Highlands did to-day. Our clouds seem to be denser and heavier,
and more decided, and form greater contrasts of light and shade. I have
remarked in England that the cloudy firmament, even on a day of settled
rain, always appears thinner than those I had been accustomed to at home,
so as to deceive me with constant expectations of better weather. It has
been the same to-day.
Whenever I looked upward, I thought it might be going to clear up; but,
instead of that, it began to rain more in earnest after midday, and at
half past two we left Inverannan in a smart shower. At the head of the
lake, we took the steamer, with the rain pouring more heavily than ever,
and landed at Inversnaid under the same dismal auspices. We left a very
good hotel behind us, and have come to another that seems also good. We
are more picturesquely situated at this spot than at Inverannan, our
hotel being within a short distance of the lake shore, with a glen just
across the water, which will doubtless be worth looking at when the mist
permits us to see it.
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