levin castle, a very central situation for Scotland, was as fond of the diversion of fishing as the Stuart kings were of hunting. The lake and the river, or water, as it is called by the Scots of Levin, was as favourable to the former as Falkland Forest and the How of Fife to the latter.

At Kinross, a little way out of town, to the north, is an excellent inn, as good as any that I have seen

in England. Neat clean rooms, both public

and bed rooms spacious, and an excellent larder and cellar. Besides butcher's meat and fish of all kinds, both sea and fresh water fish, there is always a variety of game. But what strangers generally point out in the bill of fare, in the first place, is, the Lochlevin trout, of which there are many different kinds. The fishery of the lake is rated at one hundred pounds a year by the landlord of the inn, to whom the trout is of great value, not only as a delicate dish for his tables, but because gentlemen who pass that way very often take a dish of fresh trouts home with them in their carriage. This inn is equidistant from Perth and the Queen's Ferry, that is, fifteen miles exactly from each.

Very near the western margin of the lake stands Kinross House, a grand and very elegant mansion, built by Sir William Bruce in the end of the seventeenth century: to which you are led by a finę row of lofty trees, a spacious court, and one of the noblest stone staircases any where to be seen. The lake, the trees, shrubs, and garden grounds, that fringe it in that quarter, the Lomond Hills on the east, the Aichils on the north, and a spacious plain, extending from, and as it were, in some measure, continuing

the How of Fife to the vale of the Devon, and thence forward to Stirling.-These are beautiful and pleasing prospects. Even the great road between Edinburgh, and all that lies northward of the Forth in Scotland, may be ranked among the felicities of this charming mansion. In the vicinity of a great city, the solitude of mountains, woods, and waters, can hardly be too great. At a distance of thirty miles, there is a satisfaction in the reflection that you are not far from the highway that connects you with the gay, active, and busy world.

Kinross seems to be a thriving place. There are considerable manufactures here, of linen, leather shoes, and, above all, of hardware, particularly cutlery, for which it has been long famous. Kinross scissars, razors, and pen-knives, are in greater request in Scotland than those of Sheffield. I presume that they both can and do make at least as good articles at Sheffield, and other places in England. But, perhaps, the manufacturers find it their interest, on the whole, to furnish the Scots with articles, though of an inferior quality, very cheap. But this, I should think, must be a dangerous kind of economy. The loss of reputation in any branch of industry, liberal or mechanical, is incalculable; whereas, the advantage of reputation on the other hand is also incalculable. Perhaps the excellency of the Kinross cutlery may one day encourage some enterprising spirits, such as the very respectable and ingenious family of the Adams, in this neighbourhood, to enlarge the manufacture, and extend the comNo doubt but Kinross derives some advantages from the great road that runs through it, as

merce.

well as from its being the capital of a small county. The situation of Kinross, in a district abounding with coal, and all the necessaries of life, not far from the Frith of Forth at Inverkeithing on the one hand, and at a still shorter distance from the Frith of Tay, at the port of Newburgh, on the other, is certainly fitted to rouze a spirit of various industry.

Having heard much of the falls and windings of the Devon, within a few miles of my present charming quarters, I went to see them, and found that not one-half of the romantic beauties and uncommon appearances of nature which are to be seen here have been described.

The Devon takes its rise in the Aichil Hills, and, after running ten miles south-east, bends to the west at a place called from hence the Crook of Devon, and gliding with many windings through a valley of the greatest fertility, as well as beauty, falls into the Forth, four miles west from Clackmannan, at the distance of a very few miles, and in a line directly south and north from its source. In one part of the valley, the Devon has been obliged to work its way through obstructing rocks. By the current of the water the solid rock has been for miles worn down from fifty to sixty feet almost perpendicular; in some places more. In the lapse, too, of ages it has worn away the softer parts at the bottom, and formed immense pits, into which, one after another, the water tumbles down with astonishing noise and fury. This scenery, wild, awful, and grand beyond all description, is famed far and near; and so naturally do such scenes make an impression on every human