most picturesque scenery we saw, especially in those unfrequented and remote localities which it was our fortune to explore.

Our northern voyage was stormy, and presented no feature of interest, until we got into the boiling tide of the Pentland Firth, and afterwards into those smooth and sheltered arms of the sea that wind among the Orcadian Archipelago. Behold us at length anchored in the tranquil waters of the Bay of Stromness, guarded by the green island of Graemsay, with its white strand and twin lighthouses, beyond which towers the lofty Hill of Hoy. A few hundred yards from our anchorage lies the town of Stromness, built at the foot of a sloping hill, and presenting a confused assemblage of narrow streets and tall old houses, whose peaked gables face the bay, into which juts out a perfect medley of quays and landing-places, affording every facility for the encouragement of the nautical tastes of the inhabitants.

About four miles from Stromness is an extensive sheet of water, called the Loch of Stennis, and, close to it, separated only by a narrow neck of land, through which flows a stream connecting the two lakes, lies the Loch of Harray. Not far from the high road, and at one extremity of this tongue of land, stands the_magnificent druidical circle of the Stones of Stennis, still earthfast and entire, in spite of the storms of two thousand winters. Close to these stones are several circular grass-grown tumuli, probably the last resting-places of distinguished Orcadian and Norwegian chiefs or princes, not likely to be disturbed, unless silly curiosity, or restless craving for distinction, shall induce some prying antiquarian to invade even this remote spot. The Stones of Stennis are of various sizes, and form a circle of about four hundred feet in circumference; some of them do not rise above four or five feet from the ground, whilst the largest is seventeen feet in height. Their aspect, rude, grey, time-worn, but strong and massive, harmonises admirably with the character of the scenery in the midst of which they stand. Those leaden lakes, their surface unbroken by islands, their shores unfringed by trees; that wide extent of level and dreary moor sloping up in the distance into low, shapeless hills;

and in the centre of all, the giant forms of the Stones of Stennis, the presiding deities of the place, as impressive, perhaps, in this bleak and barren waste, as the lofty columns, whose graceful shafts and sculptured capitals still tower over the ruins of Balbec, in the brighter landscape of a warmer clime, and under the golden glow of a southern sky.

Those who have a passion for climbing, or a fondness for extensive prospects of sea and island, may, in the long days of summer, take boat from Stromness, early in the morning, land on the island of Hoy, ascend the Ward Hill, the highest summit in the Orkneys, and return to Stromness the same evening. Far in the recesses of the mountain, in a gloomy and rockstrewn valley, lies the Dwarfie Stonea huge mass of rock hollowed out into a rude dwelling, which Trolld, a dwarf celebrated in the northern sagas, is said to have formed for himself, and selected as his favourite residence.

Kirkwall, the capital of the Orkneys, is about fourteen miles distant from Stromness. The road between the two places is excellent, but the scenery most dreary, with the exception of the pretty Bay of Firth, and a sheltered valley near it, in which are a handsome modern house and some wellcultivated fields. Between the promontories of Inganess and Quanterness, protected by the opposite island of Shapinsay, lies a deep and beautiful bay, at the bottom of which stands the town of Kirkwall. The Cathedral of St. Magnus, built in the twelfth century, and still in perfect preservation, is alone well worthy of a voyage to the Orkneys. Its tall, massive form dominates over the other buildings-fit type of the relative positions of the Church and the laity at the time when it was reared. It is built of a reddish sandstone, and in the heaviest and earliest style of Gothic architecture. The first view of the interior is very striking. There is no screen between the nave and choir, no seats or galleries, nothing to break the uninterrupted view from end to end; and the massive and unadorned pillars, that for nearly eight hundred years have supported the lofty roof, possess an impressive character of strength and simplicity. All around the cathedral there are passages in the thickness of the walls, whence the priests (themselves unseen) could look

down on the worshippers below, and in one place there is a secret chamber in which a chained skeleton was discovered.

Kirkwall possesses another interesting relic of the past, in Earl Patrick's Palace. At present it is in a filthy state, being used as a place for keeping geese and poultry of all kinds. We heard, however, that there was an intention of repairing or rebuilding it for a town house. If so, it is to be hoped that the repairs will exhibit better taste than those which have been perpetrated upon St. Magnus' Cathedral, where some of the pinnacles of the modern restorers are perfectly hideous, resembling chimney cans, with inverted flowerpots placed on the top of them; and yet they might easily have copied the original pinnacles, which still remain, and are very beautiful. Well, indeed, might Sir Walter Scott observe, whilst describing the earl's and bishop's palaces at Kirkwall: Several of these ruinous buildings might be selected (under suitable modifications) as the model of a Gothic mansion, provided architects would be contented rather to imitate what is really beautiful in that species of building, than to make a medley of the caprices of the order, confounding the military, ecclesiastical, and domestic styles of all ages at random, with additional fantasies and combinations of their own device, all formed out of the builder's brain."*

The

Early on a fine July morning we got under way, and left the Bay of Stromness, bound for Loch Erribol, on the north coast of Scotland. wind was light; but on getting into the Roost of Brackness, as the narrow channel between the Island of Hoy and the mainland of Orkney is termed, we found ourselves all at once in the midst of a tremendous sea, pitching bowsprit under, and the spray flying over our deck. We had started with the ebb tide, and there had been a westerly breeze for some days, and it was the meeting of the westerly swell with the tide, which runs nine miles an hour in the narrow channel of the Roost, that caused the commotion which so much astonished us. However, as soon as we had rounded Hoy Head, and got fairly out into the At

lantic, the sea became much calmer. Hoy Head is a magnificent promontory, formed by a spur of the lofty Ward Hill, which here dips down into the ocean a sheer precipice, five hundred feet in height, protracted to the southward for miles, an iron wall of rock-bound coast, gradually diminishing in height. At a short distance from Hoy Head, and a little in front of the cliffs, an isolated rock, called the "Old Man of Hoy," rises abruptly from the sea, sometimes seeming to blend with the precipices behind; at other times standing out in strong relief.

During the whole day we had light and variable winds, with occasional calms, though there was a good deal of sea on, till we had quite closed in with the land; in consequence of which we did not reach our anchorage, a sheltered bay in Loch Erribol, about sixty miles distant from Stromness, until late in the night. The view of the mountains on the coast, and in the interior, as we approached the land, was exceedingly striking. In Caithness we saw Morven, and in Sutherland. shire Ben Griam-more, Klibrick, Ben Laoghal, Ben Hope, and many other lofty summits, whose names we did not know. The entrance to the Kyles of Tongue, to the eastward of Loch Erribol, is very picturesque. In the opening of this arm of the sea lie numerous small islands, behind which is a safe anchorage, and beyond tower the lofty and serrated peaks of Ben Laoghal, the most conspicuous object in the landscape. We were much impressed by the grandeur of the white cliff's on our left, as we entered Loch Erribol; lofty, pointed, and precipitous, they form an admirable landimark for the storm-tossed mariner, and point out the entrance to aquiet haven.

On emerging from our berths in the morning, we were delighted with the beauty of the landscape in the vicinity of our anchorage-a deep bay, at the foot of a steep range of hills, covered with the greenest pasture, broken up here and there by grey rocks. A narrow neck of land, terminating in a grassy promontory, lay between us and the sea; on this stood a solitary house, called HieJam Inn, occupied by a canny Celt named Hector M Lean, exercising the joint

VOL. XLVI.NO. CCLXXIV.

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trades of ferryman and innkeeper, whose hereditary caution and shrewdness in driving a bargain have been wonderfully sharpened by many years of traffic with the crews of the numerous storm-bound vessels that find refuge in Loch Erribol. Towards the head of the Loch, an island, green as an emerald, with a narrow strip of the whitest sand marking the boundary between the verdure and the water, seemed to stretch almost across the lake; a little beyond, on the eastern shore, a bold headland, half green and half rocky, rose abruptly from the strand; behind it stretched a level tract of barren moorland, whilst the distance was closed in by a lofty chain of bleak and sterile mountains. The upper part of these mountains is literally herbless granite," strewed with detached masses of rock, which have been torn off by the winter storms. Of vegetation there is not a trace;

but

66

"All is lonely, silent, rude;

A stern yet glorious solitude."
About a mile distant from Loch Er-

ribol across the hills, or a couple of miles by the road, lies Loch Hope; between the two runs the river Hope, which has a broad, full current, but a course not much exceeding a mile in length. It is celebrated as a first-rate salmon river. On inquiring, we found that the fishings were let; however, as there was no means of procuring permission without sending a long distance for it, I determined to walk across and fish, until I was stopped by the keeper, taking only a small troutingrod, and light tackle. The day was a most unfavourable one for my purpose-bright and warm, with scarcely a breath of air. I soon, however, caught, in Loch Hope, a couple of fine sea trout, and afterwards, in the river below, a grilse, four pounds weight, when my sport was for some time interrupted by a fine salmon, which rose to a sea-trout fly, and succeeded, after a struggle of ten minutes, in breaking my flimsy tackle, and making off down stream. On refitting, I again set to work, and soon succeeded in getting a weighty basketful of sea trout, with which 1 trudged back to the yacht. From what I saw, I have no doubt that the Hope fully deserves its reputation, and can believe that 10,000 lbs. of salmon were taken out of it in a single season.

On reaching the yacht I found that her owner, who had parted from me on the banks of the Hope, to find his way round by the shore of Loch Erribol, had not yet returned, nor did he make his appearance for some time. He had lost his way, got involved amongst bogs and precipices, and at length arrived thoroughly tired, and intensely disgusted with the state of the footpaths in this part of Sutherlandshire.

Next day the weather still continued bright and fair, but a perfect hurricane of wind was blowing from the south-west. I walked across the hills to Loch Hope, not without considerable difficulty from the violence of the storm. Loch Hope fills up a narrow ravine, about six miles in length, and at its southern extremity is a deep gorge hemmed in by mountains of picturesque and varied forms. Down this gorge, and along the narrow channel of the Loch, the wind was rushing in heavy gusts, with a noise like thunder, raising the water in columns of spray, fifteen or twenty feet high, and whirling them with immense velocity from end to end of the lake, so that when the sun occasionally shone out on them, it seemed as if fragments of a rainbow were drifting along the waters.

By far the grandest feature in the landscape is the magnificent solitary mountain of Ben Hope, which rears its lofty form, scarred and furrowed by storms and torrents, 3,500 feet above the lake. Its shape and general appearance reminded me forcibly of that most beautiful of isolated mountains, Arrigal, in the north-west of Ireland. But the quiet lakes which lie sleeping at its base, and the wooded and fertile domain of Dunlui, are certainly more attractive than the wild shores of Loch Hope.

Close to our anchorage and almost on the edge of the water, stood the ruins of a small church; the gables only remain entire, and the interior is choked up with a thick growth of fern. All over Sutherlandshire the ruins of small hamlets and scattered cottages are to be found; and a melancholy sight it is, to meet in the recesses of the mountain valleys with shattered walls and green patches here and there appearing amongst the heather, showing that cultivation and life had once existed where now are only the grouse and the red deer. The cause of all

this was the introduction of the sheepfarming system into the county, to make room for which the small farmers and cotters who occupied the straths and valleys, were ejected from their holdings and compelled to emigrate. The population is at present very much smaller than formerly; and it has, in consequence, been found exceedingly difficult to procure a sufficient number of able-bodied men to fill up the ranks of the Sutherlandshire militia.

We were detained for five days in Loch Erribol, and were twice driven back in attempting to beat round Cape Wrath. Our supplies of bread ran short, and we found, to our dismay, that the nearest baker lived thirty miles off rather a long distance to send for hot rolls. In other respects we had nothing to complain of. We bought half a sheep from Mr. Clarke of Erribol, an extensive sheep farmer, deservedly famed for his hos pitality to strangers a virtue almost universal in Sutherlandshire. For eggs we paid fourpence a dozen, and for cream fourpence a pint-prices that would rather astonish a Londoner. A week might be passed here most pleasantly; devoting one day to Loch Hope and the ascent of Ben Hope, from which, in clear weather, may be seen the island of Lewis to the west, the Orkneys to the north-east, and the principal mountains of Caithness and Sutherland. Another day might be spent in a visit to the Kyles of Tongue and to Tongue House, a seat of the Duke of Sutherland's; a third in exploring the wild mountains at the head of Loch Erribol; and a fourth in a fishing excursion to Loch Maddie, famed for the number and excellence of its trout. Whiten Head, with the fine caves close to it, would occupy a fifth; and a visit to the Smowe Cave, a short distance to the westward of Loch Erribol, would fill up the sixth. Our last day was spent in an examination of this singular natural curiosity. The cave may be reached either by a pathway leading from the high road, or by the sea, from which the approach is by a narrow creek, between precipitous walls of rock. The entrance is under a lofty arch, like the portal of some immense Gothic cathedral, and within the cave expands to a height and breadth of nearly one hundred feet.

At some distance inwards from the entrance, a small stream falls through a rift in the rocky roof of the cavern, and forms a deep, still pool in its bosom, more than seventy feet below. This basin is thirty yards across, very deep, and is separated from a smaller and outer pool by a low, narrow ledge of rock, over which those who desire to penetrate into the recesses of the cave, must get a boat lifted and placed in the inner pool. On crossing this, they will find themselves at the entrance of a low-browed narrow archway, not above three feet in height, through which they must pass lying flat in the boat. From this they emerge under a lofty vault covered with stalactites, overhanging a second dark, still pool, nearly as extensive as that which they have just left; and, if inclined to penetrate still further, they may then walk on to the termination of the cave, about a hundred feet beyond the further extremity of this innermost lake. There is a spot, a few yards distant from the high road, where you may stand upon the roof of the cavern, a deep chasm on either side; through one of those chasms the stream that supplies the silent, sunless pools below, leaps into the cave.

At last the weather permitted us to leave our snug anchorage in Loch Erribol. For some time after starting the wind was favourable, but when we had rounded the noble promontory of Far-out-Head, it became light and baffling, and for several hours we lay tossing on the long swell, and making little or no way. We had taken the precaution of getting a good offing, and were, consequently, pretty much out of the influence of the strong tides that prevail near Cape Wrath; but we saw a large brig in shore of us swept helplessly back by the current for miles to the eastward. The coast line of cliffs near Whiten Head, Farout-Head, and Cape Wrath, is magnificent. Many of the precipices are two hundred feet perpendicular, and some of them as much as seven hundred. From the Kyles of Durness an iron face of rugged rock overhangs the sea, gradually increasing in height and grandeur until it attains its culminating point in the bold headland of Cape Wrath, whose stern aspect we had ample opportunities for admiring; as however we lay within sight of it for nearly a whole day, our admiration was

merged in disgust, and we heartily wished ourselves out of sight of this cape of storms.

Early on the morning of a bright July day we were off the Point of Store, some thirty miles south of Cape Wrath, with the wind still light; but about ten o'clock a fine breeze from the north-west sprang up, and carried us along at a great rate, all sails set, and everything drawing. About four o'clock, after a fine run, we entered Loch Ewe, and came to anchor near the beautiful village of Pool Ewe, at the head of the loch.

If the reader will take the trouble to look at the map of Scotland, he will see that an almost uninterrupted range of mountains extends along the coast from Ben Dearg, south of Cape Wrath, to Loch Ewe. That mountain chain is more varied in outline, and more striking and picturesque in appearance, than any other in Great Britain. The summits vary in height from two thousand to three thousand five hundred feet the highest is Ben More in Assynt; the most singular Slivean, or the Sugar-Loaf. Winding amongst these mountains, and extending up to the openings of the narrow valleys that divide them, and afford a channel for their waters, are a multitude of arms of the sea, many of them of great beauty, and affording to the yachtsman a choice of safe and convenient harbours. From one of these salt-water lochs, Loch Glen Dhu, £30,000 worth of herrings were taken in a single year.

Close to the shore, and a little way south of Loch Laxford, lies the singular island of Handa, in many respects more wonderful than Staffa. On the north-west side it presents stupendous cliffs, six hundred feet perpendicular, the haunts of myriads of sea fowl. Here, as at Stafla, may be seen basaltic columns, but those of Handa are peculiar to it, being arranged in horizontal layers, and presenting an ap pearance as if built by the hand of man.

At Loch Ewe we were more within the beaten track of tourists than we had been since leaving the Moray Firth. Our first care was, of course, to make arrangements for a visit to the far-famed Loch Maree, by many deemed the queen of Scottish lakes. The short course of the River Ewe is too much broken by shallows and rapids to admit of boats being pulled up from the sea to Loch Maree. We

were, therefore, obliged to hire a boat from a man of the name of M'Lean, and on repairing to his house on the banks of the river we found him waiting for us; we accordingly followed his guidance, and embarked in the craft which belonged to him. Both man and boat were of the same build, the former broad in the beam as a Dutchman, and the latter a heavy, clumsy affair, strong enough to navigate the Pentland Firth instead of the calm waters of an inland sea. We rowed up the Ewe for some distance before entering the lake, having on our right fine grey crags, thickly clothed with natural wood, and on our left, a comparatively tame shore. The entrance to Loch Maree is very impressive; on one side is a steep and lofty mountain, on the other precipitous rocks partially wooded the lake between being narrow and deep. Further on it expands into a spacious sheet of water, apparently closed in by a cluster of wooded islands, separated by a number of narrow winding channels. The wood on one of these islets has nearly disappeared, owing to some excisemen having set fire to it whilst engaged in destroying an illicit still. As we advanced, a magnificent valley, terminated by a noble range of serrated peaks, gradually opened up on the south-west shore of the loch, whilst, on the opposite bank, the gigantic form of Sliobach towered above the neighbouring mountains.

We landed on the Island of St. Maree, which is thickly clothed with birch and the common and smoothleaved holly. In the centre of a thicket, are a few mossed and mouldering tombstones, bearing the symbol of the cross; under one of these slumber the ashes of a Duke of Norway.

Loch Maree is about twenty-four miles in length, but we did not proceed above half way to Kinloch-Ewe, where it terminates, and where its dark and narrow waters seem almost overhung by precipitous mountains. The weather was beautiful during the whole day, clear, bright, and warm, so that we saw Loch Maree to the best advantage; but we both agreed, judging from what we had seen, that, though a noble sheet of water, studded with islands and surrounded by mountains, it is inferior in grandeur to the head of Loch Awe, and in picturesque beauty to Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine.