The old building was a lofty tower of rude architecture which commanded a vale watered by the Garry.

The walls would have offered very little resistance to a battering train, but were quite strong enough to keep the herdsmen of the Grampians in awe.

About five miles south of this stronghold, the valley of the Garry contracts itself into the celebrated glen of Killiecrankie.

At present a highway as smooth as any road in Middlesex ascends gently from the low country to the summit of the defile.

White villas peep from the birch forest; and, on a fine summer day, there is scarcely a turn of the pass at which may not be seen some angler casting his fly on the foam of the river, some artist sketching a pinnacle of rock, or some party of pleasure banqueting on the turf in the fretwork of shade and sunshine.