Is perhaps the favourite spot beyond all others in the neighbourhood for picnic parties, and deservedly so, for no other presents, within the same easy access, so much lovely seclusion and such variety of shady strolls, and luxurious scenes of natural beauty. Among its shady paths, and by its pebbly shores, one could loiter unweariedly a summer day. The stately woods, with their richness of colour, graduating from the dull, dark yew, to the brown beech, closing in everywhere around; the ever-varying features of the hills, and the musical restlessness of the waters of the loch, mirroring the unfathomable blue depths and floating clouds of heaven on their bosom, and dancing along the margin of the gravelly beach; the glimpses of distant scenery through the over-arching trees; the plash of the tiny waterfall, and many-voiced songsters among the broom and brushwood, yield a rich harvest of quiet delight. To one who can appreciate beautiful scenery, and whose mind is susceptible of those influences it is calculated to produce, a stroll through the eastern part of the parish cannot but be both pleasant and profitable. The first time we visited it, we rowed across the loch from Helensburgh, guided by a weather-beaten old fisherman, and landed at the point immediately beneath the castle. The water here is deep, and the beach shelving rapidly down to it, so that a boat, at almost any stage of the tide, runs high up upon the shore, and disembarkation is easily effected. Right before you stands the Castle of Roseneath, a beautiful mansion, belonging to the Duke of Argyll, built of polished freestone, in the Roman Ionic style. It was begun in 1803, and has been gradually advancing toward completion, but parts of the interior are not yet finished. Another castle used to occupy a green knoll nearer the water, but which was destroyed by fire some sixty years since. The design of the modern building, which was furnished by Bononi of London, is very imposing, and the effect is increased by its position. It commands an extensive view of the Gareloch in front, on the north, Ardencaple, and Helens-burgh towards the east, with the surrounding hills as a background. In front, the ground in the immediate vicinity of the castle is laid out as a lawn, interspersed with patches of copse and evergreen, and stretches down to the beach. It is surrounded on all other sides by woods of great age, through which a variety of walks and drives have been formed with great taste. Campsail bay, in front of the castle, is one of the most lovely bays on the Clyde. From its sheltered situation it is peculiarly adapted for winter harbourage of numerous cutters and small craft. During the French war, it was used as a harbour for a considerable portion of the fleet at one time, and in later times its friendly shelter was sought by her Majesty for a night during one of her visits to Scotland. From this circumstance it is almost as well known as the Queen’s Bay as by its other title. There is not much in the interior of the castle to attract visitors. Inverary, which is the principal seat in Scotland of the Argyll family, contains almost all those relics of a past age interesting to antiquaries and curiosity-hunters. In the fire which destroyed the former building, also perished almost all the old furniture, paintings, and ornaments which would otherwise have formed a very valuable collection. Any one curious to examine the house may, however, in absence of the family, easily obtain admittance, and to those who delight in spacious apartments, well appointed in every respect, such a visit will be satisfactory. But, on the whole, the gardens and grounds are the chief attractions in connexion with the buildings. These are kept in excellent order, and laid out with great taste; and the gardener, who is quite an enthusiast in his profession, is most obliging and attentive to visitors. Things are much improved since our visit above alluded to. Then there was an air of decay and dilapidation everywhere witnessed. It almost seemed as if decay of the noble house of Argyll, so long prominent both for good and evil in the history of our country, had fallen upon its outskirts. Our old cicerone, the boatman, was, perhaps, not the most fitting guide that could have been selected to the spot, yet he was an original in his own way. His ideas of the wooded seclusions in the neighbourhood of the castle seemed to be regulated by their adaptation for the unlawful purpose of defrauding his majesty’s revenue, and he was drawn into the narration of various “ploys” and hairbreadth escapes of his younger days connected with smuggling, and which he seemed to look back upon with a peculiar relish.

The shores of Campsail Bay are in some parts rocky, with little natural coves running into them. These are a favourite resort of strollers and such little pleasure parties as, in hot summer weather, seek a quiet retreat for an hour or two. They are very picturesque, and afford, even in the most boisterous weather, a pleasant shelter. At the extremity of the bay you quit the policies connected with the castle, and emerge on the highway, which runs northward up the Gareloch, and diverges on the left across the hill to the opposite side of the parish, and nearly at the mouth of Lochlong. The walk up the hill is a very romantic one. The whole distance does not exceed two miles. For about half a mile, before the ascent begins, the road runs through a glen, and passes some picturesque little cottages almost hid amongst roses and trailing plants of various kinds. One is almost tempted to think if love in a cottage, and love amongst the roses were ever realised, they might find a fitting abode here, so great is the profusion of these two favourite conditions of Cupid’s existence. A little further in advance the traveller passes the Free Church, a neat little building, embosomed amongst the trees, and on the hill-side above it stands the manse. A country pastor’s life, away from the excitement, bustle, and unrest of a city existence might almost be expected to be fully realised here. The church, however, seems rather awkwardly situated, as it stands neither in the village of Roseneath, nor near enough to the modern villages of Kilcreggan and Cove, to be easily accessible on a wet Sabbath, and on a summer day so far distant that the walk may be supposed to excite the soporific tendencies of the congregation. Once ascended the hill, the view that breaks upon the eye is very grand. On the one side is the Gareloch, on the other the Firth of Clyde, with many smiling little villages along its shores, screened behind by high ranges of hills, beyond which the blue peak of Goatfell towers up to the clouds. At all times studded with steamers and sailing vessels of every kind, the Firth presents an animated and busy appearance, and the distant white feather of the locomotive suggest that unwearying human industry whose wealth and energies have reclaimed all these coasts from a rude wilderness, and impressed them with the evidences of taste and comfort. Almost immediately at the base of the hill stands the modern village of Kilcreggan, which has sprung into existence during the past six years, and about a mile further west and nearly opposite Lochlong, the kindred village of Cove. In both of these the villas are built in good taste, with considerable pretension to architectural design, and the gardens and lawns are neatly laid out. The feus are held of the Duke of Argyll at much more reasonable terms than at many of the neighbouring watering-places. The villages are not likely to increase much in size, however, unless his Grace gives off ground for building further east, as most of the available ground near the water is already occupied. The road turns in front of these villas and along the shores of Lochlong towards Arrochar. As the parish of Roseneath is not very extensive—stretching little more than seven miles from east to west, and from one to four miles broad—the pedestrian may, easily survey the whole of it in one day, by keeping along the road till he reaches Peaton, the estate of J. D. Campbell, Esq., or onwards to Portincaple, whence there is a road across the hill.which brings him again close upon the Gareloch, and joins the road leading from Roseneath Bay to the loch, near Rahane Mill. Continuing his walk down the loch, the pedestrian passes Barreman House, the property of R. C. Cumming, Esq., who is also proprietor of a considerable part of the land on this side of the parish. On his grounds a number of very handsome houses have been built, and till the more recent villages started on the Lochlong shore, they were a favourite resort, being, in fact, the only summer quarters for the visitors in the parish. To one great drawback, however, the houses are liable on this side of the Gareloch, and that is, they occupy a northerly exposure, “And the spring comes slowly up this way.”

The high screen of hills behind the houses must also have considerable influence in shortening the summer day. On Barreman there is an excellent slate quarry, which was worked for several years past by an enterprising firm in Glasgow. It appears to be a continuation of the seam which has for long been quarried at Luss. It breaks out in the range of hills at the head of Glen Fruin, where there are traces of old workings, appears again above Row, and in the same line at Roseneath. The slate is slightly darker in colour than that found at Luss quarries, but seems nothing inferior in quality. The lands of Barreman terminate a little to the west of Roseneath Ferry, where the Argyll property on this side of the parish commences. Opposite the ferry the loch narrows from about a mile and a half to little more than three hundred yards, a long neck or point running out from Row far into its waters. At ebb or flood-tide, the rush of the stream here is very great, and if any wind is blowing, its waters at times boil and beat furiously. A pier has been erected at the ferry for the accommodation of steamers, at which they can land their passengers in all weathers. A small tax, but which must amount to a very handsome rent in the course of the year, is exacted by his Grace from passengers landing or embarking. A little above the Ferry-house stands Clachan House, belonging to the Argyll family. There is here an avenue of yew trees leading from the house to the old church, believed to have been planted in the time of Charles II. These, along with two immense silver firs in the woods at Campsail— supposed to be the first of their species planted in Scotland—are the chief sylvan glories of the parish, and amply worth a visit. Passing up from the ferry, the Parish Church, a neat little building in the early English style, strikes the eye. It was erected in 1853-4 from a design by D. Cousin, Esq., of Edinburgh, and originally consisted simply of nave and chancel, but in 1862 another aisle accommodating 130 sitters was added—making the whole number 500. In the chancel are the pulpit, communion table, and font—the latter a gift to the church. The space on the wall of the chancel below the window is filled by a large illuminated table of the commandments drawn and coloured from medieval designs by W. A. Muirhead, Esq., Edinburgh, and to the left a smaller of the Lord’s prayer—both gifts from the artist. To the right is a monument in Ayrshire stone and white marble, containing a medallion by Wm. Brodie, Esq., R.S.A., dedicated by his parishioners and friends to the revered memory of the late Rev. Robert Story, minister of Roseneath, whose pastorate of 42 years closed in 1859. In the neighbourhood of it is Roseneath village or clachan—immortalised by Sir Walter Scott. It probably has not increased since the times of Jeanie Deans, and consists of less than a score of little low-roofed cottages, occupied by a primitive and contented population, who hold themselves secure under the shadow of the great MacCallum More’s wing. The old parish church stood nearer the clachan than the present one. It was a plain old building, as may still be seen,—old enough to be associated with the labours of Reuben Butler, and valuable, as affording building spaces among its timbers to hordes of swallows and bats. On a very wet day the congregation, we are told, had to select their seats with a view to avoid the drip from the ceiling, and the necessity of an umbrella over the precentor’s head often suggested itself to strangers. This state of things has, however, happily passed away, and the congregation can worship in comfort in any kind of weather. For some time prior to the beginning of the thirteenth century the church was a free parsonage, and under patronage of the Earl of Lennox; but about this time it was given to the monks of Paisley in perpetual alms, and continued as one of their curacies till the Reformation. At removal of part of the last church, the bell was found to bear an inscription in Latin to the effect that it had been made in Holland early in the seventeenth century. It is suspended in the new building, and has a wonderfully musical tongue to have wagged so long. As in most other romantic spots on the borders of the Scottish Lowlands, tradition associates Roseneath with Blind Harry and Sir William Wallace, and near the castle there is pointed out to the credulous a rock called Wallace’s leap. These traditions doubtless invest the spot with some degree of interest, however much our sober judgment may feel disposed to reject them. There is probably more truth in the story of several of the persecuted Covenanters having found shelter and protection from Argyll here in times of hardship and trial, and till a recent date it is said certain descendants of the renowned Balfour of Burley were found living in the neighbourhood.

One peculiarity connected with the parish is deserving of notice and of the attention of naturalists. A writer in the old statistical account of Scotland says:—“Here rats cannot exist; many of these have at different times been accidentally imported from vessels lying upon the shore, but were never known to live twelve months in the place. From a prevailing opinion that the soil of this place is hostile to that animal, some years ago a West India planter actually carried out to Jamaica several casks of Roseneath earth, with a view to kill the rats that were destroying his sugar-canes. It is said this had not the desired effect: so we lost a very valuable export. Had the experiment succeeded, this would have been a new and valuable trade for the proprietors; but perhaps by this time the parish of Roseneath might have been no more.” How far the existence of animal life in this form is still unknown in this parish, the present writer is unable to determine; but if it is singular in this exemption, it is also singular in another—the absence of such a thing as a public-house. Although there is an inn at Roseneath Ferry and a temperance hotel at Kilcreggan, both much frequented, there is not an inn, lodging-house, or shop in the parish where a single lawful glass of whisky can be obtained—no great deprivation, probably, to any one, but an illustration at home of the possibility of a pretty large and populous parish thriving under the Maine liquor rule, which the advocates of temperance seem to have altogether forgotten. This has been the case now for some time, and we suppose so long as his Grace, the present Duke of Argyll, continues to rule on his own lands, it will remain so. There have been a few celebrated men born in this parish, amongst whom we may notice the mathematician, Matthew Stewart, father of the distinguished philosopher, Dugald Stewart, and Dr. Anderson, the founder of the Andersonian University, Glasgow. Both Dugald Stuart and Dr. Anderson were children of parish ministers of Roseneath, and they are still referred to with no little pride by the older inhabitants, as samples of what the parish could produce. Besides the parish church of which the Rev. Robert Herbert Story, ordained in 1859, is minister, there is the Free Church already mentioned— Rev. J. M‘Ewen, minister; Craigrownie Chapel, in connexion with the Establishment, erected to meet the wants of the population of Cove, Kilcreggan, and Craigrownie—Rev. David Shanks, minister; and a wooden building erected by the United Presbyterian body near Kilcreggan, in which the Rev. Joseph Corbett is pastor. The population of the parish, according to last census, was 1600. The resident Justices of the Peace are R. C. Cumming, Esq. of Baremann, and Alexander Abercromby, Esq. of Craigrownie Castle.