Turning aside from the formal round of the Trosachs and Loch Lomond, to penetrate into that wonderful district which the Callander and Oban railway has opened up, we reach, at no great distance from Callander, Loch Lubnaig, 'the crooked lake,' so called from its bent form, which is almost identical with the form of the boomerang. The river Leny, which drains the lake, passes through the Pass of Leny, once famous as a gateway defending the entrance to the Highlands. Here, whether viewed from the train or the road, the river is seen to rush over huge rocks, tearing, roaring, and tumbling, in a manner calculated to terrify the timid entrant to this wild district.

The lake itself lies clear, black, and deep, a somewhat sullen, yet always beautiful sheet of water. On the left the dark masses of Ben Ledi cast their shadows upon the water, intensifying the depth of its tone, and giving the loch its distinctive character. Near the water the banks are in many places full of gentle woodland beauty, but as a rule the impression made by the overhanging bulk and the dusky-hued rocks of Ben Ledi, absorb the sense, and the loch ever presents an idea of grandeur and desolation. The railway line follows the edge of the loch over its whole length, and the construction of this track formed a most difficult engineering task, which at some stages of its progress was nigh abandoned in despair. To get round the hard and unyielding shoulders of the mountain, where they impinged direct upon the water, embankments had to be made across a number of bays and arms of the loch. In one case the task of throwing rocks and stones into the water was persevered in for nine months without perceptible result, but by continued labour a footing above water level was at last obtained. As the train pursues its course along the bank of the lovely loch,—the eye the while rejoicing in the dark and placid beauty of the water, and the charm of the hill scenery beyond,—there will at times come the feeling that the distance between the carriage window and the treacherously pellucid depths of the loch is all too little. The fear is unfounded, for no sign of subsidence has been shewn—the mass of stones thrown in was too solid for that. But this is a feature in the case that no traveller will fail to notice, and the impression thus made by Loch Lubnaig makes it a water which once seen will never be forgotten.

Near the debouchure of the river is St. Bride's Chapel, where Angus thrust the fiery cross into the hands of Norman, as described in The Lady of the Lake. About half-way up the loch is Ardchullary farmhouse, which was at one time the retreat of Bruce the traveller in Abyssinia, who here wrote the volumes on which a century ago such keen controversies arose. On the opposite side, where the railway runs, is Laggan, said to have been the abode of Helen Macgregor, whom Rob Roy carried off from here by force and married. In the veritable histories of Rob Roy, however, his wife's name is given as Mary, daughter of Macgregor of Comar.