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the family of Menzies retired some centuries ago, in disgust with the world, after resigning his patrimony to a younger brother.

A mile further on is the populous village of Aberfeldy, and, near to it, are the Falls of Moness, (or Aberfeldy,) which have been pronounced by Pennant to be an epitome of every thing that can be admired in waterfalls, and to which the lyrical poetry of Burns has given new celebrity

“ The braes ascend like lofty wa's,

The foaming stream deep roaring fa's,
O’erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,

The birks of Aberfeldy.
The hoary cliffs are crowned wi’ flowers;
White o'er the linn the burnie pours,
And, rising, weets wi' misty showers

The birks of Aberfeldy.

Such is the poet's description, which is strikingly accurate, of the Falls of Moness; but for the Tourist who wishes in person to examine them, it is proper to state, that a walk conducts him along the side of a deep glen, until he reaches, on the left, the first cascade, which runs down a natural flight of steps in the rock, making a pattering noise. Advancing along the bottom of the glen, he will come to a profound cavern, upon the right, wrought out by the stream, and terminated by a great cataract, consisting of several breaks, and almost overarched with frowning rocks, and trees which project from their crevices. He will then ascend a zig-zag walk, cross the first cascade, and advance among the woods towards the summit of the hill, where he will discover from the verge of a huge precipice another cataract, tumbling in one vast sheet into a deep hollow, whence the stream rushes furiously, and is lost in the deep gloom of a wood beneath.

Leaving the village of Aberfeldy, the road proceeds

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along the south bank of the Tay, through a country increasing in fertility and beauty. Two miles beyond Aberfeldy, the venerable castle of Grandtully, (Stewart, Bart.) appears upon the right, after which, a succession of elegant modern mansions come in sight. Ballechin House, (Stewart, Esq.) is seen upon the left. the bank aboon the mill, in the Lowlands o' Ballechin," Sir James the Rose, the young heir of the property, was slain by Sir John the Graham. A mile further on is Balnaguard Inn, upon the right, and Eastertyre, (Major Macglashan,) on the left. Beyond this a road strikes off, and crosses the river to the village of Logierait, a little way distant. But continuing along the west bank of the Tay, which now takes a southerly direction, the road, one mile beyond Balnaguard Inn, enters Port village ; one mile further, Balmacneil village, and passes Kinnaird, (Duke of Atholl) romantically situated beneath an overhanging rock, near to a fountain and the ruins of a chapel, both dedicated to St Lawrence. The road continues its course through a valley, abounding in the finest scenery, having the Tay on the left, flowing along the base of a ridge of hills, charmingly wooded. A mile and a half beyond Kinnaird, it passes Glenalbert, the scene of Mrs Brunton's popular novel of “ Self Control.” Here there is a fine waterfall, at no great distance from the road. A little further on is Dalguise, (Stewart, Esq.) on the right; and a mile and a-half beyond Dalguise, the road enters first Ballalachan village, and then Dalmarnock village, near to which the level country terminates. Three miles beyond this, a road strikes off upon the right to Amulrie, and the river Braan is crossed by a bridge at the village of Invar; a

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Logierait is the point from which an excursion may most conveniently be made to Blair Atholl, and the equally romantic districts of Tummel and Rannoch, which are comprehended in the Third Tour.

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little further on, the road crosses the Tay by a magnificent bridge of seven arches, and enters


which is situated on its northern bank, within the grand pass to the Highlands from the east, in the centre of a valley, surrounded on all sides by mountains, less lofty than the central Grampians, but broken and shattered into the most picturesque forms, and covered to their summits with trees of every species. The foliage of those trees presents a prevailing depth of green, relieved by an infinite variety of hues and tints, and casts a solemn shade over the majestic Tay, as it flows in silence, skirting the hills, and presenting an image of tranquil but resistless strength. The town itself, with its venerable abbey, and the surrounding landscape, sylvan and cultivated, level and mountainous, the river and the rocks, combine to form a scene at once placid and magnificent.

Dunkeld is of great antiquity, and was at one time the capital of ancient Caledonia ; about the dawn of Christianity (729), in this country, it was made the seat of religion by a Pictish King, who erected there a monastery of Culdees, which King David I. in 1130 converted into a bishopric, and ranked the first in the kingdom. The town contains about 1400 inhabitants, who are principally engaged in the manufacture of linen and yarn. Its situation is so remarkably healthful, that physicians frequently recommend it to invalids as a summer residence.

The most interesting object in Dunkeld is the Abbey, surrounded by evergreens, and overlooking the river, which now reflects its ruins, furred o'er with hoary damps and mouldering slime," as in ages past it reflected its pristine strength and magnificence. The archi

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