The bases of the mountains were yet covered with the dispersing mist of the morning, and hardly distinguishable from the blue waters of the lake, which lashed the shore.

The newly-awakened sheep bleated from the hills, and the umbrageous herbage, dropping dew, seemed glittering with a thousand fairy gems.
"Where is the man who would not fight for such a country ?" exclaimed Murray, as he stepped over a bridge of interwoven trees, which crossed one of the mountain streams.

"This land was not made for slaves.

Look at these bulwarks of nature! Every mountain-head which forms this chain of hills is an impregnable rampart against invasion.

If Baliol had possessed but half a heart, Edward might have returned even worse than Caesar--without a cockle to decorate his helmet." "Baliol has found the oblivion he incurred," returned Wallace; "his son, perhaps, may better deserve the scepter of such a country.