Among the nooks and corners worth exploring is the old turnpike road to Luss, now disused and neglected, save as it suits the convenience of the farmer through whose lands it may pass. It was once a main line of communication betwixt the Lowlands and the fastnesses of Perth, Stirling, and Inverness shires, extensively used in connexion with the ferries to the opposite shores of Greenock and Port-Glasgow. It leads from the east boundary of the town through the farm of Kirkmichael. Near this at one time stood the remains of a chapel dedicated to Saint Michael, with certain monastic buildings. The chapel was in existence about the commencement of last century, and, from old parish records, seems to have been used as a place of worship. It is difficult now to trace its exact site; the stones of which it was built have been appropriated for boundary dykes and farm offices, and other base uses, to the regret of antiquary and archaeologist. Passing the farm steading the road winds up hill over alternating ridge and hollow, between broom-clad banks, where the blue-bell, meadow sweet, primrose, and wild rose luxuriate in rich mosaic of colour, and shed their fragrance on the summer air. And it will be strange if you do not pass in some sheltered nook a camp or two of wandering Arabs—the gray tent erected in the lee of an old dyke or bank, with the cart tilted against a tree, and the donkey grazing placidly at the hedge roots, and encounter a group of impudent children rushing in their tattered picturesqueness towards you imploring “backshish.” This road has from time immemorial been a favourite haunt of these dwellers in tents. The little heaps of blackened stones and bits of charred wood dotting the road-sides, and mingled with scraps of tin and horn, shew abundant vestiges of former encampments, and may in some future age be exhumed by antiquarians and theorised over as relics of some ancient race—workers in metal and bone. Who knows what volumes may be written to prove their existence, habits, and customs! Further up the hill the road is lined by a belt of wood—a famous place in former days, and probably famous still, for nutting excursions in the autumn. Clumps of hazel abound among the more valuable forest trees, and yield, or used to yield, many a stock of nuts to the boys of Helensburgh against Hallowe’en. But the hazel does more than this; for it also affords desirable shelter in the winter storms and against the biting winds of spring to the cattle lying out on the hill, and about its roots a picking of fresh grass could be found when the outlying fields were bare and withered. The view as you reach the opening into the wood is very extensive to the east and west, commanding a long range of scenery on both sides of the Clyde.

Further on, the road apparently intersects the remains of an ancient camp. A good deal of discussion has arisen whether these are traces of a Roman encampment or belong to more recent dates. No thorough investigation of the matter has ever been made. It certainly is not far from the line of the wall of Antoninus; and as near Callendoon, about two miles distant, pieces of ancient armour, apparently of Roman origin, have been found, it is quite possible this may have been au outlying station.

After leaving the wood the road enters the moor, and is difficult to follow sometimes. The whole aspect of the scene changes. From the corn field and hay meadow you enter at once into a region of moor and peat. You seem to cross the threshold of civilisation and are transported into a region which bears no impress of the hand of man, and spreads its fresh beauties before you in all the attraction of nature. Passing through the moor for about a mile, the road diverges again and joins the new Luss road, whence the route northwards may be prosecuted, or the pedestrian can return thus homewards.