"Afterwards we met another party walking in the same way, with their trunks on a wheelbarrow. We thought that five miles was a great way to wheel trunks on a wheelbarrow.
"At last we came to what they called Loch Katrine; but it seemed to me nothing but a pond among the mountains. It was only about ten miles long. There was an inn on the shore, but no village.
"There was a pier there, too, and some boats drawn up on the beach. At a little distance they were putting together an iron steamboat on the stocks. The parts were all made in Glasgow, and brought here by the same way that we had come. The old steamboat of last year was floating in the water near by. The steampipe was rusty, and she looked as if she had been abandoned. The name of her was the Rob Roy.
"We were glad that the new one was not ready, for we liked better to go in a row boat.
"So we engaged one of the boats, and went down to it on the beach, and put our baggage in. And this is the end of my part of the account. Waldron is to write the rest.
"Rollo."
"We all got into the boat; that is, we three, and some other ladies and gentlemen that came over the mountain about the same time with us. The wind was blowing pretty fresh, and the middle of the lake was very rough, and some of the ladies were afraid to go; but we told them there was no danger.
"The boatman said that we would go right across the loch, and then we should get under the lee of the land on the eastern shore, and there we should be sheltered from the wind, and the water would be smooth.
"I told him that I could row, and asked him to let me take one of the oars; and he said I might. But one of the ladies was afraid to have me do it. She said she was afraid that I should upset the boat.