CHAPTER XXVIII

VOYAGE TO THE SHETLAND ISLES, ETC. -- SCOTT'S DIARY KEPT ON BOARD

THE LIGHTHOUSE YACHT

1814

The gallant composure with which Scott, when he had dismissed a work

from his desk, awaited the decision of the public--and the healthy

elasticity of spirit with which he could meanwhile turn his whole

zeal upon new or different objects--are among the features in his

character which will always, I believe, strike the student of

literary history as most remarkable. We have now seen him before the

fate of Waverley had been determined--before he had heard a word

about its reception in England, except from one partial

confidant--preparing to start on a voyage to the northern isles,

which was likely to occupy the best part of two months, and in the

course of which he could hardly expect to receive any intelligence

from his friends in Edinburgh. The Diary which he kept during this

expedition is--thanks to the leisure of a landsman on board--a very

full one; and, written without the least notion probably that it

would ever be perused except in his own family circle, it affords

such a complete and artless portraiture of the man, as he was in

himself, and as he mingled with his friends and companions, at one

of the most interesting periods of his life, that I am persuaded

every reader will be pleased to see it printed in its original

state. A few extracts from it were published by himself, in one of

the Edinburgh Annual Registers--he also drew from it some of the

notes to his Lord of the Isles, and the substance of several

others for his romance of the Pirate. But the recurrence of these

detached passages will not be complained of--expounded and

illustrated as the reader will find them by the personal details of

the context.

[Illustration: WILLIAM ERSKINE (LORD KINNEDDER)

_From the water-color portrait by William Nicholson_]

I have been often told by one of the companions of this voyage, that

heartily as Scott entered throughout into their social enjoyments,

they all perceived him, when inspecting for the first time scenes of

remarkable grandeur, to be in such an abstracted and excited mood,

that they felt it would be the kindest and discreetest plan to leave

him to himself. "I often," said Lord Kinnedder, "on coming up from

the cabin at night, found him pacing the deck rapidly, muttering to

himself--and went to the forecastle, lest my presence should disturb

him. I remember, that at Loch Corriskin, in particular, he seemed

quite overwhelmed with his feelings; and we all saw it, and retiring

unnoticed, left him to roam and gaze about by himself, until it was

time to muster the party and be gone." Scott used to mention the

surprise with which he himself witnessed Erskine's emotion on first

entering the Cave of Staffa. "Would you believe it?" he said--"my

poor Willie sat down and wept like a woman!" Yet his own

sensibilities, though betrayed in a more masculine and sterner

guise, were perhaps as keen as well as deeper than his amiable

friend's.

The poet's Diary, contained in five little paper books, is as

follows:--

VACATION, 1814.

_Voyage in the Lighthouse Yacht to Nova Zembla, and the Lord knows

where._

"_July 29, 1814_.--Sailed from Leith about one o'clock on board the

Lighthouse Yacht, conveying six guns, and ten men, commanded by Mr.

Wilson. The company: Commissioners of the Northern Lights, Robert

Hamilton, Sheriff of Lanarkshire; William Erskine, Sheriff of Orkney

and Zetland; Adam Duff, Sheriff of Forfarshire. Non-commissioners,

Ipse Ego; Mr. David Marjoribanks, son to John Marjoribanks, Provost of

Edinburgh, a young gentleman; Rev. Mr. Turnbull, minister of Tingwall,

in the presbytery of Shetland. But the official chief of the

expedition is Mr. Stevenson, the Surveyor-Viceroy over the

Commissioners--a most gentlemanlike and modest man, and well known by

his scientific skill.[59]

"Reached the Isle of May in the evening; went ashore, and saw the

light--an old tower, and much in the form of a border-keep, with a

beacon-grate on the top. It is to be abolished for an oil

revolving-light, the grate-fire only being ignited upon the leeward

side when the wind is very high. _Quære_--Might not the grate revolve?

The isle had once a cell or two upon it. The vestiges of the chapel

are still visible. Mr. Stevenson proposed demolishing the old tower,

and I recommended _ruining_ it _à la picturesque_--_i. e._,

demolishing it partially. The island might be made a delightful

residence for sea-bathers.

"On board again in the evening: watched the progress of the ship round

Fifeness, and the revolving motion of the now distant Bell-Rock light

until the wind grew rough, and the landsmen sick. To bed at eleven,

and slept sound.

"_30th July_.--Waked at six by the steward; summoned to visit the

Bell-Rock, where the beacon is well worthy attention. Its dimensions

are well known; but no description can give the idea of this slight,

solitary, round tower, trembling amid the billows, and fifteen miles

from Arbroath, the nearest shore. The fitting up within is not only

handsome, but elegant. All work of wood (almost) is wainscot; all

hammer-work brass; in short, exquisitely fitted up. You enter by a

ladder of rope, with wooden steps, about thirty feet from the bottom,

where the mason-work ceases to be solid, and admits of round

apartments. The lowest is a storehouse for the people's provisions,

water, etc.; above that a storehouse for the lights, of oil, etc.;

then the kitchen of the people, three in number; then their sleeping

chamber; then the saloon or parlor, a neat little room; above all, the

lighthouse; all communicating by oaken ladders, with brass rails, most

handsomely and conveniently executed. Breakfasted in the parlor.[60]

On board again at nine, and run down, through a rough sea, to

Aberbrothock, vulgarly called Arbroath. All sick, even Mr. Stevenson.

God grant this occur seldom! Landed and dined at Arbroath, where we

were to take up Adam Duff. We visited the appointments of the

lighthouse establishment--a handsome tower, with two wings. These

contain the lodgings of the keepers of the light--very handsome,

indeed, and very clean. They might be thought too handsome, were it

not of consequence to give those men, entrusted with a duty so

laborious and slavish, a consequence in the eyes of the public and in

their own. The central part of the building forms a single tower,

corresponding with the lighthouse. As the keepers' families live here,

they are apprised each morning by a signal that _all is well_. If this

signal be not made, a tender sails for the rock directly. I visited

the abbey church for the third time, the first being--_eheu!_[61]--the

second with T. Thomson. Dined at Arbroath, and came on board at night,

where I made up this foolish journal, and now beg for wine and water.

So the vessel is once more in motion.

"_31st July_.--Waked at seven; vessel off Fowlsheugh and Dunnottar.

Fair wind, and delightful day; glide enchantingly along the coast of

Kincardineshire, and open the bay of Nigg about ten. At eleven, off

Aberdeen; the gentlemen go ashore to Girdle-Ness, a projecting point

of rock to the east of the harbor of Foot-Dee. There the magistrates

of Aberdeen wish to have a fort and beacon-light. The Oscar, whaler,

was lost here last year, with all her hands, excepting two; about

forty perished. Dreadful, to be wrecked so near a large and populous

town! The view of Old and New Aberdeen from the sea is quite

beautiful. About noon proceed along the coast of Aberdeenshire, which,

to the northwards, changes from a bold and rocky to a low and sandy

character. Along the bay of Belhelvie, a whole parish was swallowed up

by the shifting sands, and is still a desolate waste. It belonged to

the Earls of Errol, and was rented at £500 a year at the time. When

these sands are passed the land is all arable. Not a tree to be seen;

nor a grazing cow, or sheep, or even a labor-horse at grass, though

this be Sunday. The next remarkable object was a fragment of the old

castle of Slains, on a precipitous bank, overlooking the sea. The

fortress was destroyed when James VI. marched north [A. D. 1594],

after the battle of Glenlivet, to reduce Huntly and Errol to

obedience. The family then removed to their present mean habitation,

for such it seems, a collection of low houses forming a quadrangle,

one side of which is built on the very verge of the precipice that

overhangs the ocean. What seems odd, there are no stairs down to the

beach. Imprudence, or ill-fortune as fatal as the sands of Belhelvie,

has swallowed up the estate of Errol, excepting this dreary

mansion-house, and a farm or two adjoining. We took to the boat, and

running along the coast had some delightful sea-views to the northward

of the castle. The coast is here very rocky; but the rocks, being

rather soft, are wasted and corroded by the constant action of the

waves,--and the fragments which remain, where the softer parts have

been washed away, assume the appearance of old Gothic ruins. There are

open arches, towers, steeples, and so forth. One part of this scaur is

called _Dunbuy_, being colored yellow by the dung of the sea-fowls,

who build there in the most surprising numbers. We caught three young

gulls. But the most curious object was the celebrated Buller of

Buchan, a huge rocky cauldron, into which the sea rushes through a

natural arch of rock. I walked round the top; in one place the path is

only about two feet wide, and a monstrous precipice on either side. We

then rowed into the cauldron or buller from beneath, and saw nothing

around us but a regular wall of black rock, and nothing above but the

blue sky. A fishing hamlet had sent out its inhabitants, who, gazing

from the brink, looked like sylphs looking down upon gnomes. In the

side of the cauldron opens a deep black cavern. Johnson says it might

be a retreat from storms, which is nonsense. In a high gale the waves

rush in with incredible violence. An old fisher said he had seen them

flying over the natural wall of the buller, which cannot be less than

200 feet high. Same old man says Slains is now inhabited by a Mr.

Bowles, who comes so far from the southward that naebody kens whare he

comes frae. 'Was he frae the Indies?'--'Na; he did not think he came

that road. He was far frae the southland. Naebody ever heard the name

of the place; but he had brought more guid out o' Peterhead than a'

the Lords he had seen in Slains, and he had seen three.' About

half-past five we left this interesting spot, and after a hard pull

reached the yacht. Weather falls hazy, and rather calm; but at sea we

observe vessels enjoying more wind. Pass Peterhead, dimly

distinguishing two steeples and a good many masts. Mormounthill said

to resemble a coffin--a likeness of which we could not judge, Mormount

being for the present invisible. Pass Rattray-Head: near this cape are

dangerous shelves, called the Bridge of Rattray. Here the wreck of the

Doris merchant vessel came on shore, lost last year with a number of

passengers for Shetland. We lie off all night.

"_1st August_.--Off Fraserburgh--a neat little town. Mr. Stevenson and

the Commissioners go on shore to look at a light maintained there upon

an old castle, on a cape called Kinnaird's Head. The morning being

rainy, and no object of curiosity ashore, I remain on board, to make

up my journal, and write home.

"The old castle, now bearing the light, is a picturesque object from

the sea. It was the baronial mansion of the Frasers, now Lords

Saltoun--an old square tower with a minor fortification towards the

landing-place on the sea-side. About eleven, the Commissioners came

off, and we leave this town, the extreme point of the Moray Firth, to

stretch for Shetland--salute the castle with three guns, and stretch

out with a merry gale. See Mormount, a long flattish-topped hill near

to the West Trouphead, and another bold cliff promontory projecting

into the firth. Our gale soon failed, and we are now all but becalmed;

songs, ballads, recitations, backgammon, and piquet, for the rest of

the day. Noble sunset and moon rising; we are now out of sight of

land.

"_2d August_.--At sea in the mouth of the Moray Firth. This day almost

a blank--light baffling airs, which do us very little good; most of

the landsmen sick, more or less; piquet, backgammon, and chess, the

only resources.--_P.M._ A breeze, and we begin to think we have passed

the Fair Isle, lying between Shetland and Orkney, at which it was our

intention to have touched. In short, like one of Sinbad's adventures,

we have run on till neither captain nor pilot know exactly where we

are. The breeze increases--weather may be called rough; worse and

worse after we are in our berths, nothing but booming, trampling, and

whizzing of waves about our ears, and ever and anon, as we fall

asleep, our ribs come in contact with those of the vessel; hail Duff

and the Udaller[62] in the after-cabin, but they are too sick to

answer. Towards morning, calm (comparative), and a nap.

"_3d August_.--At sea as before; no appearance of land; proposed that

the Sheriff of Zetland do issue a _meditatione fugæ_ warrant against

his territories, which seem to fly from us. Pass two whalers; speak

the nearest, who had come out of Lerwick, which is about twenty miles

distant; stand on with a fine breeze. About nine at night, with

moonlight and strong twilight, we weather the point of Bard-head, and

enter a channel about three quarters of a mile broad which forms the

southern entrance to the harbor of Lerwick, where we cast anchor about

half-past ten, and put Mr. Turnbull on shore.

"_4th August_.--Harbor of Lerwick. Admire the excellence of this

harbor of the metropolis of Shetland. It is a most beautiful place,

screened on all sides from the wind by hills of a gentle elevation.

The town, a fishing village built irregularly upon a hill ascending

from the shore, has a picturesque appearance. On the left is Fort

Charlotte, garrisoned of late by two companies of veterans. The

Greenlandmen, of which nine fine vessels are lying in the harbor, add

much to the liveliness of the scene. Mr. Duncan, Sheriff-substitute,

came off to pay his respects to his principal; he is married to a

daughter of my early acquaintance, Walter Scott of Scotshall. We go

ashore. Lerwick, a poor-looking place, the streets flagged instead of

being causewayed, for there are no wheel-carriages. The streets full

of drunken riotous sailors from the whale-vessels. It seems these

ships take about 1000 sailors from Zetland every year, and return them

as they come back from the fishery. Each sailor may gain from £20 to

£30, which is paid by the merchants of Lerwick, who have agencies from

the owners of the whalers in England. The whole return may be between

£25,000 and £30,000. These Zetlanders, as they get a part of this pay

on landing, make a point of treating their English messmates, who get

drunk of course, and are very riotous. The Zetlanders themselves do

_not_ get drunk, but go straight home to their houses, and reserve

their hilarity for the winter season, when they spend their wages in

dancing and drinking. Erskine finds employment as Sheriff, for the

neighborhood of the fort enables him to make _main forte_, and secure

a number of the rioters. We visit F. Charlotte, which is a neat little

fort mounting ten heavy guns to the sea, but only one to the land.

Major F., the Governor, showed us the fort; it commands both entrances

of the harbor: the north entrance is not very good, but the south

capital. The water in the harbor is very deep, as frigates of the

smaller class lie almost close to the shore. Take a walk with Captain

M'Diarmid, a gentlemanlike and intelligent officer of the garrison; we

visit a small fresh-water loch called _Cleik-him-in_; it borders on

the sea, from which it is only divided by a sort of beach, apparently

artificial: though the sea lashes the outside of this beach, the water

of the lake is not brackish. In this lake are the remains of a Picts'

castle, but ruinous. The people think the castle has not been built on

a natural island, but on an artificial one formed by a heap of stones.

These Duns or Picts' castles are so small, it is impossible to

conceive what effectual purpose they could serve excepting a temporary

refuge for the chief.--Leave _Cleik-him-in_, and proceed along the

coast. The ground is dreadfully encumbered with stones; the patches

which have been sown with oats and barley bear very good crops, but

they are mere _patches_, the cattle and ponies feeding amongst them,

and secured by tethers. The houses most wretched, worse than the

worst herd's house I ever saw. It would be easy to form a good farm

by enclosing the ground with Galloway dykes, which would answer the

purpose of clearing it at the same time of stones; and as there is

plenty of limeshell, marle, and alga-marina, manure could not be

wanting. But there are several obstacles to improvement, chiefly the

undivided state of the properties, which lie _run-rig_; then the

claims of Lord Dundas, the lord of the country, and above all,

perhaps, the state of the common people, who, dividing their attention

between the fishery and the cultivation, are not much interested in

the latter, and are often absent at the proper times of labor. Their

ground is chiefly dug with the spade, and their ploughs are beyond

description awkward. An odd custom prevails: any person, without

exception (if I understand rightly), who wishes to raise a few kail,

fixes upon any spot he pleases, encloses it with a dry stone wall,

uses it as a kailyard till he works out the soil, then deserts it and

makes another. Some dozen of these little enclosures, about twenty or

thirty feet square, are in sight at once. They are called

_planty-cruives_; and the Zetlanders are so far from reckoning this an

invasion, or a favor on the part of the proprietor, that their most

exaggerated description of an avaricious person is one who would

refuse liberty for a _planty-cruive_; or to infer the greatest

contempt of another, they will say, they would not hold a

_planty-cruive_ of him. It is needless to notice how much this license

must interfere with cultivation.

"Leaving the _cultivated_ land, we turn more inland, and pass two or

three small lakes. The muirs are mossy and sterile in the highest

degree; the hills are clad with stunted heather, intermixed with huge

great stones; much of an astringent root with a yellow flower, called

_Tormentil_, used by the islanders in dressing leather in lieu of the

oak bark. We climbed a hill, about three miles from Lerwick, to a

cairn which presents a fine view of the indented coast of the island,

and the distant isles of Mousa and others. Unfortunately the day is

rather hazy--return by a circuitous route, through the same sterile

country. These muirs are used as a commonty by the proprietors of the

parishes in which they lie, and each, without any regard to the extent

of his peculiar property, puts as much stock upon them as he chooses.

The sheep are miserable looking, hairy-legged creatures, of all

colors, even to sky-blue. I often wondered where Jacob got speckled

lambs; I think now they must have been of the Shetland stock. In our

return, pass the upper end of the little lake of _Cleik-him-in_, which

is divided by a rude causeway from another small loch, communicating

with it, however, by a sluice, for the purpose of driving a mill. But

such a mill! The wheel is horizontal, with the cogs turned diagonally

to the water; the beam stands upright, and is inserted in a

stone-quern of the old-fashioned construction. This simple machine is

enclosed in a hovel about the size of a pig-sty--and there is the

mill![63] There are about 500 such mills in Shetland, each incapable

of grinding more than a sack at a time.

"I cannot get a distinct account of the nature of the land rights. The

Udal proprietors have ceased to exist, yet proper feudal tenures seem

ill understood. Districts of ground are in many instances understood

to belong to Townships or Communities, possessing what may be arable

by patches, and what is muir as a commonty, _pro indiviso_. But then

individuals of such a Township often take it upon them to grant feus

of particular parts of the property thus possessed _pro indiviso_. The

town of Lerwick is built upon a part of the commonty of Sound, the

proprietors of the houses having feu-rights from different heritors of

that Township, but why from one rather than another, or how even the

whole Township combining (which has not yet been attempted) could

grant such a right upon principle, seems altogether uncertain. In the

mean time the chief stress is laid upon occupance. I should have

supposed, upon principle that Lord Dundas, as superior, possessed the

_dominium eminens_, and ought to be resorted to as the source of land

rights. But it is not so. It has been found that the heritors of each

Township hold directly of the Crown, only paying the _Scat_, or

Norwegian land-tax, and other duties to his lordship, used and wont.

Besides, he has what are called property lands in every Township, or

in most, which he lets to his tenants. Lord Dundas is now trying to

introduce the system of leases and a better kind of agriculture.[64]

Return home and dine at Sinclair's, a decent inn--Captain M'Diarmid

and other gentlemen dine with us.--Sleep at the inn on a straw couch.

"_5th August 1814_.--Hazy disagreeable morning;--Erskine trying the

rioters--notwithstanding which, a great deal of rioting still in the

town. The Greenlanders, however, only quarrelled among themselves, and

the Zetland sailors seemed to exert themselves in keeping peace. They

are, like all the other Zetlanders I have seen, a strong,

clear-complexioned, handsome race, and the women are very pretty. The

females are rather slavishly employed, however, and I saw more than

one carrying home the heavy sea-chests of their husbands, brothers, or

lovers, discharged from on board the Greenlanders. The Zetlanders are,

however, so far provident, that when they enter the navy they make

liberal allowance of their pay for their wives and families. Not less

than £15,000 a year has been lately paid by the Admiralty on this

account; yet this influx of money, with that from the Greenland

fishery, seems rather to give the means of procuring useless

indulgences than of augmenting the stock of productive labor. Mr.

Collector Ross tells me that from the King's books it appears that the

quantity of spirits, tea, coffee, tobacco, snuff, and sugar, imported

annually into Lerwick for the consumption of Zetland, averages at sale

price, £20,000 yearly, at the least. Now the inhabitants of Zetland,

men, women, and children, do not exceed 22,000 in all, and the

proportion of foreign luxuries seems monstrous, unless we allow for

the habits contracted by the seamen in their foreign trips. Tea, in

particular, is used by all ranks, and porridge quite exploded.

"We parade Lerwick. The most remarkable thing is, that the main street

being flagged, and all the others very narrow lanes descending the

hill by steps, anything like a cart, of the most ordinary and rude

construction, seems not only out of question when the town was built,

but in its present state quite excluded. A road of five miles in

length, on the line between Lerwick and Scalloway, has been already

made--upon a very awkward and expensive plan, and ill-lined as may be

supposed. But it is proposed to extend this road by degrees: carts

will then be introduced, and by crossing the breed of their ponies

judiciously, they will have Galloways to draw them. The streets of

Lerwick (as one blunder perpetrates another) will then be a bar to

improvement, for till the present houses are greatly altered, no cart

can approach the quay. In the garden of Captain Nicolson, R. N., which

is rather in a flourishing state, he has tried various trees, almost

all of which have died except the willow. But the plants seem to me to

be injured in their passage; seeds would perhaps do better. We are

visited by several of the notables of the island, particularly Mr.

Mowat, a considerable proprietor, who claims acquaintance with me as

the friend of my father, and remembers me as a boy. The day clearing

up, Duff and I walk with this good old gentleman to _Cleik-him-in_,

and with some trouble drag a boat off the beach into the fresh-water

loch, and go to visit the Picts' castle. It is of considerable size,

and consists of three circular walls of huge natural stones admirably

combined without cement. The outer circuit seems to have been simply a

bounding wall or bulwark; the second or interior defence contains

lodgments such as I shall describe. This inner circuit is surrounded

by a wall of about sixteen or eighteen feet thick, composed, as I

said, of huge massive stones placed in layers with great art, but

without mortar or cement. The wall is not perpendicular, but the

circle lessens gradually towards the top, as an old-fashioned

pigeon-house. Up the interior of this wall there proceeds a circular

winding gallery ascending in the form of an inclined plane, so as to

gain the top by circling round like a corkscrew within the walls. This

is enlightened by little apertures (about two feet by three) into the

inside, and also, it is said, by small slits--of which I saw none. It

is said there are marks of galleries within the circuit, running

parallel to the horizon; these I saw no remains of; and the interior

gallery, with its apertures, is so extremely low and narrow, being

only about three feet square, that it is difficult to conceive how it

could serve the purpose of communication. At any rate, the size fully

justifies the tradition prevalent here as well as in the south of

Scotland, that the Picts were a diminutive race. More of this when we

see the more perfect specimen of a Pict castle in Mousa, which we

resolve to examine, if it be possible. Certainly I am deeply curious

to see what must be one of the most ancient houses in the world, built

by a people who, while they seem to have bestowed much pains on their

habitations, knew neither the art of cement, of arches, or of stairs.

The situation is wild, dreary, and impressive. On the land side are

huge sheets and fragments of rocks, interspersed with a stinted

vegetation of grass and heath, which bears no proportion to the rocks

and stones. From the top of his tower the Pictish Monarch might look

out upon a stormy sea, washing a succession of rocky capes, reaches,

and headlands, and immediately around him was the deep fresh-water

loch on which his fortress was constructed. It communicates with the

land by a sort of causeway, formed, like the artificial islet itself,

by heaping together stones till the pile reached the surface of the

water. This is usually passable, but at present overflooded.--Return

and dine with Mr. Duncan, Sheriff-substitute--are introduced to Dr.

Edmonstone, author of a History of Shetland, who proposes to accompany

us to-morrow to see the Cradle of Noss. I should have mentioned that

Mr. Stevenson sailed this morning with the yacht to survey some isles

to the northward; he returns on Saturday, it is hoped.

"_6th August._--Hire a six-oared boat, whaler-built, with a taper

point at each end, so that the rudder can be hooked on either at

pleasure. These vessels look very frail, but are admirably adapted to

the stormy seas, where they live when a ship's boat stiffly and

compactly built must necessarily perish. They owe this to their

elasticity and lightness. Some of the rowers wear a sort of coats of

dressed sheep leather, sewed together with thongs. We sailed out at

the southern inlet of the harbor, rounding successively the capes of

the Hammer, Kirkubus, the Ving, and others, consisting of bold cliffs,

hollowed into caverns, or divided into pillars and arches of fantastic

appearance, by the constant action of the waves. As we passed the most

northerly of these capes, called, I think, the Ord, and turned into

the open sea, the scenes became yet more tremendously sublime. Rocks

upwards of three or four hundred feet in height presented themselves

in gigantic succession, sinking perpendicularly into the main, which

is very deep even within a few fathoms of their base. One of these

capes is called the Bard-head; a huge projecting arch is named the

Giant's Leg.

'Here the lone sea-bird wakes its wildest cry.'[65]

Not lone, however, in one sense, for their numbers and the variety of

their tribes are immense, though I think they do not quite equal those

of Dunbuy, on the coast of Buchan. Standing across a little bay, we

reached the Isle of Noss, having hitherto coasted the shore of

Bressay. Here we see a detached and precipitous rock, or island, being

a portion rent by a narrow sound from the rest of the cliff, and

called the Holm. This detached rock is wholly inaccessible, unless by

a pass of peril, entitled the Cradle of Noss, which is a sort of

wooden chair, travelling from precipice to precipice on rings, which

run upon two cables stretched across over the gulf. We viewed this

extraordinary contrivance from beneath, at the distance of perhaps one

hundred fathoms at least. The boatmen made light of the risk of

crossing it, but it must be tremendous to a brain disposed to be

giddy. Seen from beneath, a man in the basket would resemble a large

crow or raven floating between rock and rock. The purpose of this

strange contrivance is to give the tenant the benefit of putting a few

sheep upon the Holm, the top of which is level, and affords good

pasture. The animals are transported in the cradle by one at a time, a

shepherd holding them upon his knees. The channel between the Holm and

the isle is passable by boats in calm weather, but not at the time

when we saw it. Rowing on through a heavy tide, and nearer the

breakers than any but Zetlanders would have ventured, we rounded

another immensely high cape, called by the islanders the Noup of Noss,

but by sailors Hang-cliff, from its having a projecting appearance.

This was the highest rock we had yet seen, though not quite

perpendicular. Its height has never been measured: I should judge it

exceeds 600 feet; it has been conjectured to measure 800 and upwards.

Our steersman had often descended this precipitous rock, having only

the occasional assistance of a rope, one end of which he secured from

time to time round some projecting cliff. The collecting sea-fowl for

their feathers was the object, and he might gain five or six dozen,

worth eight or ten shillings, by such an adventure. These huge

precipices abound with caverns, many of which run much farther into

the rock than any one has ventured to explore. We entered (with much

hazard to our boat) one called the Orkney-man's Harbor, because an

Orkney vessel run in there some years since to escape a French

privateer. The entrance was lofty enough to admit us without striking

the mast, but a sudden turn in the direction of the cave would have

consigned us to utter darkness if we had gone in farther. The dropping

of the sea-fowl and cormorants into the water from the sides of the

cavern, when disturbed by our approach, had something in it wild and

terrible.

"After passing the Noup, the precipices become lower, and sink into a

rocky shore with deep indentations, called by the natives, _Gios_.

Here we would fain have landed to visit the Cradle from the top of the

cliff, but the surf rendered it impossible. We therefore rowed on like

Thalaba, in 'Allah's name,' around the Isle of Noss, and landed upon

the opposite side of the small sound which divides it from Bressay.

Noss exactly resembles in shape Salisbury crags, supposing the sea to

flow down the valley called the Hunter's bog, and round the foot of

the precipice. The eastern part of the isle is fine smooth pasture,

the best I have seen in these isles, sloping upwards to the verge of

the tremendous rocks which form its western front.

"As we are to dine at Gardie-House (the seat of young Mr. Mowat), on

the Isle of Bressay, Duff and I--who went together on this

occasion--resolve to walk across the island, about three miles, being

by this time thoroughly wet. Bressay is a black and heathy isle, full

of little lochs and bogs. Through storm and shade, and dense and dry,

we find our way to Gardie, and have then to encounter the sublunary

difficulties of wanting the keys of our portmanteaus, etc., the

servants having absconded to see the Cradle. These being overcome, we

are most hospitably treated at Gardie. Young Mr. Mowat, son of my old

friend, is an improver, and a _moderate_ one. He has got a ploughman

from Scotland, who acts as _grieve_, but as yet with the prejudices

and inconveniences which usually attach themselves to the most

salutary experiments. The ploughman complains that the Zetlanders work

as if a spade or hoe burned their fingers, and that though they only

get a shilling a day, yet the labor of three of them does not exceed

what one good hand in Berwickshire would do for 2_s._ 6_d._ The

islanders retort that a man can do no more than he can; that they are

not used to be taxed to their work so severely; that they will work

as their fathers did, and not otherwise; and at first the landlord

found difficulty in getting hands to work under his Caledonian

task-master. Besides, they find fault with his _ho_, and _gee_, and

_wo_, when ploughing. 'He speaks to the horse,' they say, 'and they

gang--and there's something no canny about the man.' In short, between

the prejudices of laziness and superstition, the ploughman leads a

sorry life of it;--yet these prejudices are daily abating, under the

steady and indulgent management of the proprietor. Indeed, nowhere is

improvement in agriculture more necessary. An old-fashioned Zetland

plough is a real curiosity. It had but one handle, or stilt, and a

coulter, but no sock; it ripped the furrow, therefore, but did not

throw it aside. When this precious machine was in motion, it was

dragged by four little bullocks yoked abreast, and as many ponies

harnessed, or rather strung, to the plough by ropes and thongs of

rawhide. One man went before, walking backward, with his face to the

bullocks, and pulling them forward by main strength. Another held down

the plough by its single handle, and made a sort of slit in the earth,

which two women, who closed the procession, converted into a furrow,

by throwing the earth aside with shovels. An antiquary might be of

opinion that this was the very model of the original plough invented

by Triptolemus; and it is but justice to Zetland to say, that these

relics of ancient agricultural art will soon have all the interest

attached to rarity. We could only hear of one of these ploughs within

three miles of Lerwick.

"This and many other barbarous habits to which the Zetlanders were

formerly wedded seem only to have subsisted because their amphibious

character of fishers and farmers induced them to neglect agricultural

arts. A Zetland farmer looks to the sea to pay his rent; if the land

finds him a little meal and kail, and (if he be a very clever fellow)

a few potatoes, it is very well. The more intelligent part of the

landholders are sensible of all this, but argue like men of good sense

and humanity on the subject. To have good farming, you must have a

considerable farm, upon which capital may be laid out to advantage.

But to introduce this change suddenly would turn adrift perhaps twenty

families, who now occupy small farms _pro indiviso_, cultivating by

patches, or _rundale_ and _runrig_, what part of the property is

arable, and stocking the pasture as a common upon which each family

turns out such stock as they can rear, without observing any

proportion as to the number which it can support. In this way many

townships, as they are called, subsist indeed, but in a precarious and

indigent manner. Fishing villages seem the natural resource for this

excess of population; but, besides the expense of erecting them, the

habits of the people are to be considered, who, with 'one foot on land

and one on sea,' would be with equal reluctance confined to either

element. The remedy seems to be, that the larger proprietors should

gradually set the example of better cultivation, and introduce better

implements. They will, by degrees, be imitated by the inferior

proprietors, and by their tenants; and, as turnips and hay crops

become more general, a better and heavier class of stock will

naturally be introduced.

"The sheep in particular might be improved into a valuable stock, and

would no doubt thrive, since the winters are very temperate. But I

should be sorry that extensive pasture farms were introduced, as it

would tend to diminish a population invaluable for the supply of our

navy. The improvement of the arable land, on the contrary, would soon

set them beyond the terrors of famine with which the islanders are at

present occasionally visited; and, combined with fisheries, carried on

not by farmers, but by real fishers, would amply supply the

inhabitants, without diminishing the export of dried fish. This

separation of trades will in time take place, and then the prosperous

days of Zetland will begin. The proprietors are already upon the

alert, studying the means of gradual improvement, and no humane person

would wish them to drive it on too rapidly, to the distress and

perhaps destruction of the numerous tenants who have been bred under a

different system.

"I have gleaned something of the peculiar superstitions of the

Zetlanders, which are numerous and potent. Witches, fairies, etc., are

as numerous as ever they were in Teviotdale. The latter are called

_Trows_, probably from the Norwegian _Dwärg_ (or _dwarf_) the D being

readily converted into T. The dwarfs are the prime agents in the

machinery of Norwegian superstition. The _trows_ do not differ from

the fairies of the Lowlands, or _Sighean_ of the Highlanders. They

steal children, dwell within the interior of green hills, and often

carry mortals into their recesses. Some, yet alive, pretend to have

been carried off in this way, and obtain credit for the marvels they

tell of the subterranean habitations of the trows. Sometimes, when a

person becomes melancholy and low-spirited, the trows are supposed to

have stolen the real being, and left a moving phantom to represent

him. Sometimes they are said to steal only the heart--like Lancashire

witches. There are cures in each case. The party's friends resort to a

cunning man or woman, who hangs about the neck a triangular stone in

the shape of a heart, or conjures back the lost individual, by

retiring to the hills and employing the necessary spells. A common

receipt, when a child appears consumptive and puny, is that the

conjurer places a bowl of water on the patient's head, and pours

melted lead into it through the wards of a key. The metal assumes of

course a variety of shapes, from which he selects a portion, after due

consideration, which is sewn into the shirt of the patient. Sometimes

no part of the lead suits the seer's fancy. Then the operation is

recommenced, until he obtains a fragment of such a configuration as

suits his mystical purpose. Mr. Duncan told us he had been treated in

this way when a boy.

"A worse and most horrid opinion prevails, or did prevail, among the

fishers--namely, that he who saves a drowning man will receive at his

hands some deep wrong or injury. Several instances were quoted to-day

in company, in which the utmost violence had been found necessary to

compel the fishers to violate this inhuman prejudice. It is

conjectured to have arisen as an apology for rendering no assistance

to the mariners as they escaped from a shipwrecked vessel, for these

isles are infamous for plundering wrecks. A story is told of the crew

of a stranded vessel who were warping themselves ashore by means of a

hawser which they had fixed to the land. The islanders (of Unst, as I

believe) watched their motions in silence, till an old man reminded

them that if they suffered these sailors to come ashore, they would

consume all their winter stock of provisions. A Zetlander cut the

hawser, and the poor wretches, twenty in number, were all swept away.

This is a tale of former times--the cruelty would not now be _active_;

but I fear that even yet the drowning mariner would in some places

receive no assistance in his exertions, and certainly he would in most

be plundered to the skin upon his landing. The gentlemen do their

utmost to prevent this infamous practice. It may seem strange that the

natives should be so little affected by a distress to which they are

themselves so constantly exposed. But habitual exposure to danger

hardens the heart against its consequences, whether to ourselves or

others. There is yet living a man--if he can be called so--to whom the

following story belongs: He was engaged in catching sea-fowl upon one

of the cliffs, with his father and brother. All three were suspended

by a cord, according to custom, and overhanging the ocean, at the

height of some hundred feet. This man being uppermost on the cord,

observed that it was giving way, as unable to support their united

weight. He called out to his brother who was next to him--'Cut away a

nail below, Willie,' meaning he should cut the rope beneath, and let

his father drop. Willie refused, and bid him cut himself, if he

pleased. He did so, and his brother and father were precipitated into

the sea. He never thought of concealing or denying the adventure in

all its parts. We left Gardie-House late; being on the side of the

Isle of Bressay, opposite to Lerwick, we were soon rowed across the

bay. A laugh with Hamilton,[66] whose gout keeps him stationary at

Lerwick, but whose good-humor defies gout and every other provocation,

concludes the evening.

"_7th August, 1814._--Being Sunday, Duff, Erskine, and I rode to

Tingwall upon Zetland ponies, to breakfast with our friend Parson

Turnbull, who had come over in our yacht. An ill-conducted and

worse-made road served us four miles on our journey. This _Via

Flaminia_ of Thule terminates, like its prototype, in a bog. It is,

however, the only road in these isles, except about half a mile made

by Mr. Turnbull. The land in the interior much resembles the

Peel-heights, near Ashestiel; but, as you approach the other side of

the island, becomes better. Tingwall is rather a fertile valley, up

which winds a loch of about two miles in length. The kirk and manse

stand at the head of the loch, and command a view down the valley to

another lake beyond the first, and thence over another reach of land,

to the ocean, indented by capes and studded with isles; among which,

that of St. Ninian's, abruptly divided from the mainland by a deep

chasm, is the most conspicuous. Mr. Turnbull is a Jedburgh man by

birth, but a Zetlander by settlement and inclination. I have reason to

be proud of my countryman; he is doing his best, with great patience

and judgment, to set a good example both in temporals and spirituals,

and is generally beloved and respected among all classes. His glebe is

in far the best order of any ground I have seen in Zetland. It is

enclosed chiefly with dry-stone, instead of the useless turf-dykes;

and he has sown grass, and has a hay-stack, and a second crop of

clover, and may claim well-dressed fields of potatoes, barley, and

oats. The people around him are obviously affected by his example. He

gave us an excellent discourse and remarkably good prayers, which are

seldom the excellence of the Presbyterian worship.[67] The

congregation were numerous, decent, clean, and well-dressed. The men

have all the air of seamen, and are a good-looking hardy race. Some of

the old fellows had got faces much resembling Tritons; if they had had

conchs to blow, it would have completed them. After church, ride down

the loch to Scalloway--the country wild but pleasant, with sloping

hills of good pasturage, and patches of cultivation on the lower

ground. Pass a huge standing stone or pillar. Here, it is said, the

son of an old Earl of the Orkneys met his fate. He had rebelled

against his father, and fortified himself in Zetland. The Earl sent a

party to dislodge him, who, not caring to proceed to violence against

his person, failed in the attempt. The Earl then sent a stronger

force, with orders to take him dead or alive. The young Absalom's

castle was stormed--he himself fled across the loch, and was overtaken

and slain at this pillar. The Earl afterwards executed the

perpetrators of this slaughter, though they had only fulfilled his own

mandate.

"We reach Scalloway, and visit the ruins of an old castle, composed of

a double tower or keep, with turrets at the corners. It is the

principal, if not the only ruin of Gothic times in Zetland, and is of

very recent date, being built in 1600. It was built by Patrick

Stewart, Earl of Orkney, afterwards deservedly executed at Edinburgh

for many acts of tyranny and oppression. It was this rapacious lord

who imposed many of those heavy duties still levied from the

Zetlanders by Lord Dundas. The exactions by which he accomplished this

erection were represented as grievous. He was so dreaded that upon his

trial one Zetland witness refused to say a word till he was assured

that there was no chance of the Earl returning to Scalloway. Over the

entrance of the castle are his arms, much defaced, with the unicorns

of Scotland for supporters, the assumption of which was one of the

articles of indictment. There is a Scriptural inscription also above

the door, in Latin, now much defaced:--

'PATRICIUS ORCHADIÆ ET ZETLANDIÆ COMES. A. D. 1600.

CUJUS FUNDAMEN SAXUM EST, DOMUS ILLA MANEBIT

STABILIS: E CONTRA, SI SIT ARENA, PERIT.'

"This is said to have been furnished to Earl Patrick by a Presbyterian

divine, who slyly couched under it an allusion to the evil practices

by which the Earl had established his power. He perhaps trusted that

the language might disguise the import from the Earl.[68] If so, the

Scottish nobility are improved in literature, for the Duke of Gordon

pointed out an error in the Latinity.

"Scalloway has a beautiful and very safe harbor, but as it is somewhat

difficult of access, from a complication of small islands, it is

inferior to Lerwick. Hence, though still nominally the capital of

Zetland, for all edictal citations are made at Scalloway, it has sunk

into a small fishing hamlet. The Norwegians made their original

settlement in this parish of Tingwall. At the head of this loch, and

just below the manse, is a small round islet accessible by

stepping-stones, where they held their courts; hence the islet is

called Law-ting--Ting, or Thing, answering to our word business,

exactly like the Latin _negotium_. It seems odd that in

Dumfries-shire, and even in the Isle of Man, where the race and laws

were surely Celtic, we have this Gothic word Ting and Tingwald applied

in the same way. We dined with Mr. Scott of Scalloway, who, like

several families of this name in Shetland, is derived from the house

of Scotstarvet. They are very clannish, marry much among themselves,

and are proud of their descent. Two young ladies, daughters of Mr.

Scott's, dined with us--they were both Mrs. Scotts, having married

brothers--the husband of one was lost in the unfortunate Doris. They

were pleasant, intelligent women, and exceedingly obliging. Old Mr.

Scott seems a good country gentleman. He is negotiating an exchange

with Lord Dundas, which will give him the Castle of Scalloway and two

or three neighboring islands: the rest of the archipelago (seven, I

think, in number) are already his own. He will thus have command of

the whole fishing and harbor, for which he parts with an estate of

more immediate value, lying on the other side of the mainland. I found

my name made me very popular in this family, and there were many

inquiries after the state of the Buccleuch family, in which they

seemed to take much interest. I found them possessed of the remarkable

circumstances attending the late projected sale of Ancrum, and the

death of Sir John Scott, and thought it strange that, settled for

three generations in a country so distant, they should still take an

interest in those matters. I was loaded with shells and little

curiosities for my young people.

"There was a report (January was two years) of a kraken or some

monstrous fish being seen off Scalloway. The object was visible for a

fortnight, but nobody dared approach it, although I should have

thought the Zetlanders would not have feared the devil if he came by

water. They pretended that the suction, when they came within a

certain distance, was so great as to endanger their boats. The object

was described as resembling a vessel with her keel turned upmost in

the sea, or a small ridge of rock or island. Mr. Scott thinks it might

have been a vessel overset, or a large whale: if the latter, it seems

odd they should not have known it, as whales are the intimate

acquaintances of all Zetland sailors. Whatever it was it disappeared

after a heavy gale of wind, which seems to favor the idea that it was

the wreck of a vessel. Mr. Scott seems to think Pontopiddan's

narrations and descriptions are much more accurate than we inland men

suppose; and I find most Zetlanders of the same opinion. Mr. Turnbull,

who is not credulous upon these subjects, tells me that this year a

parishioner of his, a well-informed and veracious person, saw an

animal, which, if his description was correct, must have been of the

species of sea-snake, driven ashore on one of the Orkneys two or three

years ago. It was very long, and seemed about the thickness of a

Norway log, and swam on the top of the waves, occasionally lifting and

bending its head. Mr. T. says he has no doubt of the veracity of the

narrator, but still thinks it possible it may have been a mere log, or

beam of wood, and that the spectator may have been deceived by the

motion of the waves, joined to the force of imagination. This for the

Duke of Buccleuch.

"At Scalloway my curiosity was gratified by an account of the

sword-dance, now almost lost, but still practised in the Island of

Papa, belonging to Mr. Scott. There are eight performers, seven of

whom represent the Seven Champions of Christendom, who enter one by

one with their swords drawn, and are presented to the eighth

personage, who is not named. Some rude couplets are spoken (in

_English_, not _Norse_), containing a sort of panegyric upon each

champion as he is presented. They then dance a sort of cotillion, as

the ladies described it, going through a number of evolutions with

their swords. One of my three Mrs. Scotts readily promised to procure

me the lines, the rhymes, and the form of the dance. I regret much

that young Mr. Scott was absent during this visit; he is described as

a reader and an enthusiast in poetry. Probably I might have interested

him in preserving the dance, by causing young persons to learn it. A

few years since, a party of Papa-men came to dance the sword-dance at

Lerwick as a public exhibition with great applause. The warlike dances

of the northern people, of which I conceive this to be the only

remnant in the British dominions,[69] are repeatedly alluded to by

their poets and historians. The introduction of the Seven Champions

savors of a later period, and was probably ingrafted upon the dance

when _mysteries_ and _moralities_ (the first scenic representations)

came into fashion. In a stall pamphlet, called the history of

Buckshaven, it is said those fishers sprung from Danes, and brought

with them their _war-dance_ or _sword-dance_, and a rude wooden cut of

it is given. We resist the hospitality of our entertainers, and return

to Lerwick despite a most downright fall of rain. My pony stumbles

coming down hill; saddle sways round, having but one girth and that

too long, and lays me on my back. _N. B._ The bogs in Zetland as soft

as those in Liddesdale. Get to Lerwick about ten at night. No yacht

has appeared.

"_8th August._--No yacht, and a rainy morning; bring up my journal.

Day clears up, and we go to pay our farewell visits of thanks to the

hospitable Lerwegians, and at the Fort. Visit kind old Mr. Mowat, and

walk with him and Collector Ross to the point of Quaggers, or

Twaggers, which forms one arm of the southern entrance to the sound of

Bressay. From the eminence a delightful sea view, with several of

those narrow capes and deep reaches or inlets of the sea, which indent

the shores of that land. On the right hand a narrow bay, bounded by

the isthmus of Sound, with a house upon it resembling an old castle.

In the indenture of the bay, and divided from the sea by a slight

causeway, the lake of _Cleik-him-in_, with its Pictish castle. Beyond

this the bay opens another yet; and, behind all, a succession of

capes, headlands, and islands, as far as the cape called

Sumburgh-head, which is the furthest point of Zetland in that

direction. Inland, craggy, and sable muirs, with cairns, among which

we distinguish the Wart or Ward of Wick, to which we walked on the

4th. On the left the island of Bressay, with its peaked hill called

the Wart of Bressay. Over Bressay see the top of Hang-cliff. Admire

the Bay of Lerwick, with its shipping, widening out to the northwards,

and then again contracted into a narrow sound, through which the

infamous Bothwell was pursued by Kirkaldy of Grange, until he escaped

through the dexterity of his pilot, who sailed close along a sunken

rock, upon which Kirkaldy, keeping the weather-gage, struck, and

sustained damage. The rock is visible at low water, and is still

called the Unicorn, from the name of Kirkaldy's vessel. Admire Mr.

Mowat's little farm, of about thirty acres, bought about twenty years

since for £75, and redeemed from the miserable state of the

surrounding country, so that it now bears excellent corn; here also

was a hay crop. With Mr. Turnbull's it makes two. Visit Mr. Ross,

collector of the customs, who presents me with the most superb

collection of the stone axes (or adzes, or whatever they are), called

_celts_. The Zetlanders call them _thunder-bolts_, and keep them in

their houses as a receipt against thunder; but the Collector has

succeeded in obtaining several. We are now to dress for dinner with

the Notables of Lerwick, who give us an entertainment in their

Town-hall. Oho!

"Just as we were going to dinner, the yacht appeared, and Mr.

Stevenson landed. He gives a most favorable account of the isles to

the northward, particularly Unst. I believe Lerwick is the worst part

of Shetland. Are hospitably received and entertained by the Lerwick

gentlemen. They are a quick, intelligent race--chiefly of Scottish

birth, as appears from their names, Mowat, Gifford, Scott, and so

forth. These are the chief proprietors. The Norwegian or Danish

surnames, though of course the more ancient, belong, with some

exceptions, to the lower ranks. The Veteran Corps expects to be

disbanded, and the officers and Lerwegians seem to part with regret.

Some of the officers talk of settling here. The price of everything is

moderate, and the style of living unexpensive. Against these

conveniences are to be placed a total separation from public life,

news, and literature; and a variable and inhospitable climate.

Lerwick will suffer most severely if the Fort is not occupied by some

force or other; for, between whiskey and frolic, the Greenland sailors

will certainly burn the little town. We have seen a good deal, and

heard much more, of the pranks of these unruly guests. A gentleman of

Lerwick, who had company to dine with him, observed beneath his window

a party of sailors eating a leg of roast mutton, which he witnessed

with philanthropic satisfaction, till he received the melancholy

information, that that individual leg of mutton, being the very

sheet-anchor of his own entertainment, had been violently carried off

from his kitchen, spit and all, by these honest gentlemen, who were

now devouring it. Two others, having carried off a sheep, were

apprehended, and brought before a Justice of the Peace, who questioned

them respecting the fact. The first denied he had taken the sheep, but

said he had seen it taken away by a fellow with a red nose and a black

wig (this was the Justice's description). 'Don't you think he was like

his honor, Tom?' he added, appealing to his comrade. 'By G--, Jack,'

answered Tom, 'I believe it was the very man!' Erskine has been busy

with these facetious gentlemen, and has sent several to prison, but

nothing could have been done without the soldiery. We leave Lerwick at

eight o'clock, and sleep on board the yacht.

"_9th August, 1814._--Waked at seven, and find the vessel has left

Lerwick harbor, and is on the point of entering the sound which

divides the small island of Mousa (or Queen's Island) from

Coningsburgh, a very wild part of the main island so called. Went

ashore, and see the very ancient castle of Mousa, which stands close

on the seashore. It is a Pictish fortress, the most entire probably in

the world. In form it resembles a dice-box, for the truncated cone is

continued only to a certain height, after which it begins to rise

perpendicularly, or rather with a tendency to expand outwards. The

building is round, and has been surrounded with an outer-wall, of

which hardly the slightest vestiges now remain. It is composed of a

layer of stones, without cement; they are not of large size, but

rather small and thin. To give a vulgar comparison, it resembles an

old ruinous pigeon-house. Mr. Stevenson took the dimensions of this

curious fort, which are as follows: Outside diameter at the base is

fifty-two feet; at the top thirty-eight feet. The diameter of the

interior at the base is nineteen feet six inches; at the top

twenty-one feet; the curve in the inside being the reverse of the

outside, or nearly so. The thickness of the walls at the base

seventeen feet; at the top eight feet six inches. The height outside

forty-two feet; the inside thirty-four feet. The door or entrance

faces the sea, and the interior is partly filled with rubbish. When

you enter you see, in the inner wall, a succession of small openings

like windows, directly one above another, with broad flat stones,

serving for lintels; these are about nine inches thick. The whole

resembles a ladder. There were four of these perpendicular rows of

windows or apertures, the situation of which corresponds with the

cardinal points of the compass. You enter the galleries contained in

the thickness of the wall by two of these apertures, which have been

broken down. These interior spaces are of two descriptions: one

consists of a winding ascent, not quite an inclined plane, yet not by

any means a regular stair; but the edges of the stones, being suffered

to project irregularly, serve for rude steps--or a kind of assistance.

Through this narrow staircase, which winds round the building, you

creep up to the top of the castle, which is partly ruinous. But

besides the staircase, there branch off at irregular intervals

horizontal galleries, which go round the whole building, and receive

air from the holes I formerly mentioned. These apertures vary in size,

diminishing as they run, from about thirty inches in width by eighteen

in height, till they are only about a foot square. The lower galleries

are full man height, but narrow. They diminish both in height and

width as they ascend, and as the thickness of the wall in which they

are enclosed diminishes. The uppermost gallery is so narrow and low,

that it was with great difficulty I crept through it. The walls are

built very irregularly, the sweep of the cone being different on the

different sides.

"It is said by Torfæus that this fort was repaired and strengthened by

Erlind, who, having forcibly carried off the mother of Harold, Earl of

the Orkneys, resolved to defend himself to extremity in this place

against the insulted Earl. How a castle could be defended which had no

opening to the outside for shooting arrows, and which was of a

capacity to be pulled to pieces by the assailants, who could advance

without annoyance to the bottom of the wall (unless it were

battlemented upon the top), does not easily appear. But to Erlind's

operations the castle of Mousa possibly owes the upper and

perpendicular, or rather overhanging, part of its elevation, and also

its rude staircase. In these two particulars it seems to differ from

all other Picts' castles, which are ascended by an inclined plane, and

generally, I believe, terminate in a truncated cone, without that

strange counterpart of the perpendicular or projecting part of the

upper wall. Opposite to the castle of Mousa are the ruins of another

Pictish fort: indeed, they all communicate with each other through the

isles. The island of Mousa is the property of a Mr. Piper, who has

improved it considerably, and values his castle. I advised him to

clear out the interior, as he tells us there are three or four

galleries beneath those now accessible, and the difference of height

between the exterior and interior warrants his assertion.

"We get on board, and in time, for the wind freshens, and becomes

contrary. We beat down to Sumburgh-head, through rough weather. This

is the extreme south-eastern point of Zetland; and as the Atlantic and

German oceans unite at this point, a frightful tide runs here, called

Sumburgh-rost. The breeze, contending with the tide, flings the

breakers in great style upon the high broken cliffs of Sumburgh-head.

They are all one white foam, ascending to a great height. We wished to

double this point, and lie by in a bay between that and the northern

or north-western cape, called Fitful-head, and which seems higher than

Sumburgh itself--and tacked repeatedly with this view; but a

confounded islet, called _The Horse_, always baffled us, and, after

three heats, fairly distanced us. So we run into a roadstead, called

Quendal Bay, on the south-eastern side, and there anchor for the

night. We go ashore with various purposes,--Stevenson to see the site

of a proposed lighthouse on this tremendous cape--Marjoribanks to

shoot rabbits--and Duff and I to look about us.

"I ascended the head by myself, which is lofty, and commands a wild

sea-view. Zetland stretches away, with all its projecting capes and

inlets, to the north-eastward. Many of those inlets approach each

other very nearly; indeed, the two opposite bays at Sumburgh-head

seem on the point of joining, and rendering that cape an island. The

two creeks from those east and western seas are only divided by a low

isthmus of blowing sand, and similar to that which wastes part of the

east coast of Scotland. It has here blown like the deserts of Arabia,

and destroyed some houses, formerly the occasional residences of the

Earls of Orkney. The steep and rocky side of the cape, which faces the

west, does not seem much more durable. These lofty cliffs are all of

sand-flag, a very loose and perishable kind of rock, which slides down

in immense masses, like avalanches, after every storm. The rest lies

so loose, that, on the very brow of the loftiest crag, I had no

difficulty in sending down a fragment as large as myself: he thundered

down in tremendous style, but splitting upon a projecting cliff,

descended into the ocean like a shower of shrapnel shot. The sea

beneath rages incessantly among a thousand of the fragments which have

fallen from the peaks, and which assume an hundred strange shapes. It

would have been a fine situation to compose an ode to the Genius of

Sumburgh-head, or an Elegy upon a Cormorant--or to have written and

spoken madness of any kind in prose or poetry. But I gave vent to my

excited feelings in a more simple way; and sitting gently down on the

steep green slope which led to the beach, I e'en slid down a few

hundred feet, and found the exercise quite an adequate vent to my

enthusiasm. I recommend this exercise (time and place suiting) to all

my brother scribblers, and I have no doubt it will save much effusion

of Christian ink. Those slopes are covered with beautiful short

herbage. At the foot of the ascent, and towards the isthmus, is the

old house of Sumburgh, in appearance a most dreary mansion. I found,

on my arrival at the beach, that the hospitality of the inhabitants

had entrapped my companions. I walked back to meet them, but escaped

the gin and water. On board about nine o'clock at night. A little

schooner lies between us and the shore, which we had seen all day

buffeting the tide and breeze like ourselves. The wind increases, and

the ship is made SNUG--a sure sign the passengers will not be so.

"_10th August, 1814._--The omen was but too true--a terrible

combustion on board, among plates, dishes, glasses, writing-desks,

etc., etc.; not a wink of sleep. We weigh and stand out into that

delightful current called _Sumburgh-rost_, or _rust_. This tide

certainly owes us a grudge, for it drove us to the eastward about

thirty miles on the night of the first, and occasioned our missing the

Fair Isle, and now it has caught us on our return. All the landsmen

sicker than sick, and our Viceroy, Stevenson, qualmish. This is the

only time that I have felt more than temporary inconvenience, but this

morning I have headache and nausea; these are trifles, and in a

well-found vessel, with a good pilot, we have none of that mixture of

danger which gives dignity to the traveller. But he must have a

stouter heart than mine, who can contemplate without horror the

situation of a vessel of an inferior description caught among these

headlands and reefs of rocks, in the long and dark winter nights of

these regions. Accordingly, wrecks are frequent. It is proposed to

have a light on Sumburgh-head, which is the first land made by vessels

coming from the eastward; Fitful-head is higher, but is to the west,

from which quarter few vessels come.

"We are now clear of Zetland, and about ten o'clock reach the Fair

Isle;[70] one of their boats comes off, a strange-looking thing

without an entire plank in it, excepting one on each side, upon the

strength of which the whole depends, the rest being patched and

joined. This trumpery skiff the men manage with the most astonishing

dexterity, and row with remarkable speed; they have two banks, that

is, two rowers on each bench, and use very short paddles. The wildness

of their appearance, with long elf-locks, striped worsted caps, and

shoes of raw-hide--the fragility of their boat--and their extreme

curiosity about us and our cutter, give them a title to be

distinguished as _natives_. One of our people told their steersman, by

way of jeer, that he must have great confidence in Providence to go to

sea in such a vehicle; the man very sensibly replied that without the

same confidence he would not go to sea in the best _tool_ in England.

We take to our boat, and row for about three miles round the coast, in

order to land at the inhabited part of the island. This coast abounds

with grand views of rocks and bays. One immense portion of rock is

(like the Holm of Noss) separated by a chasm from the mainland. As it

is covered with herbage on the top, though a literal precipice all

round, the natives contrive to ascend the rock by a place which would

make a goat dizzy, and then drag the sheep up by ropes, though they

sometimes carry a sheep up on their shoulders. The captain of a sloop

of war, being ashore while they were at this work, turned giddy and

sick while looking at them. This immense precipice is several hundred

feet high, and is perforated below by some extraordinary apertures,

through which a boat might pass; the light shines distinctly through

these hideous chasms.

"After passing a square bay called the North-haven, tenanted by

sea-fowl and seals (the first we have yet seen), we come in view of

the small harbor. Land, and breakfast, for which, till now, none of us

felt inclination. In front of the little harbor is the house of the

tacksman, Mr. Strong, and in view are three small assemblages of

miserable huts, where the inhabitants of the isle live. There are

about thirty families and 250 inhabitants upon the Fair Isle. It

merits its name, as the plain upon which the hamlets are situated

bears excellent barley, oats, and potatoes, and the rest of the isle

is beautiful pasture, excepting to the eastward, where there is a

moss, equally essential to the comfort of the inhabitants, since it

supplies them with peats for fuel. The Fair Isle is about three miles

long and a mile and a half broad. Mr. Strong received us very

courteously. He lives here, like Robinson Crusoe, in absolute solitude

as to society, unless by a chance visit from the officers of a

man-of-war. There is a signal-post maintained on the island by

Government, under this gentleman's inspection; when any ship appears

that cannot answer his signals, he sends off to Lerwick and Kirkwall

to give the alarm. Rogers[71] was off here last year, and nearly cut

off one of Mr. Strong's express-boats, but the active islanders

outstripped his people by speed of rowing. The inhabitants pay Mr.

Strong for the possessions which they occupy under him as sub-tenants,

and cultivate the isle in their own way, _i. e._, by digging instead

of ploughing (though the ground is quite open and free from rocks, and

they have several scores of ponies), and by raising alternate crops of

barley, oats, and potatoes; the first and last are admirably good.

They rather over-manure their crops; the possessions lie runrig, that

is, by alternate ridges, and the outfield or pasture ground is

possessed as common to all their cows and ponies. The islanders fish

for Mr. Strong at certain fixed rates, and the fish is his property,

which he sends to Kirkwall, Lerwick, or elsewhere, in a little

schooner, the same which we left in Quendal Bay, and about the arrival

of which we found them anxious. An equal space of rich land on the

Fair Isle, situated in an inland county of Scotland, would rent for

£3000 a year at the very least. To be sure it would not be burdened

with the population of 250 souls, whose bodies (fertile as it is) it

cannot maintain in bread, they being supplied chiefly from the

mainland. Fish they have plenty, and are even nice in their choice.

Skate they will not touch; dog-fish they say is only food for

Orkney-men, and when they catch them, they make a point of tormenting

the poor fish for eating off their baits from the hook, stealing the

haddocks from their lines, and other enormities. These people, being

about halfway between Shetland and Orkney, have unfrequent connection

with either archipelago, and live and marry entirely among themselves.

One lad told me, only five persons had left the island since his

remembrance, and of those, three were pressed for the navy. They

seldom go to Greenland; but this year five or six of their young men

were on board the whalers. They seemed extremely solicitous about

their return, and repeatedly questioned us about the names of the

whalers which were at Lerwick, a point on which we could give little

information.

"The manners of these islanders seem primitive and simple, and they

are sober, good-humored and friendly,--but _jimp_ honest. Their

comforts are, of course, much dependent on _their master's_ pleasure;

for so they call Mr. Strong. But they gave him the highest character

for kindness and liberality, and prayed to God he might long be their

ruler. After mounting the signal-post hill, or Malcolm's Head, which

is faced by a most tremendous cliff, we separated on our different

routes. The Sheriff went to rectify the only enormity on the island,

which existed in the person of a drunken schoolmaster; Marchie[72]

went to shoot sea-fowl, or rather to frighten them, as his

calumniators allege. Stevenson and Duff went to inspect the remains or

vestiges of a Danish lighthouse upon a distant hill, called, as

usual, the Ward, or Ward-hill, and returned with specimens of copper

ore. Hamilton went down to cater fish for our dinner, and see it

properly cooked--and I to see two remarkable indentures in the coast

called _Rivas_, perhaps from their being rifted or _riven_. They are

exactly like the Buller of Buchan, the sea rolling into a large open

basin within the land through a natural archway. These places are

close to each other; one is oblong, and it is easy to descend into it

by a rude path; the other gulf is inaccessible from the land, unless

to a _crags-man_, as these venturous climbers call themselves. I sat

for about an hour upon the verge, like the cormorants around me,

hanging my legs over the precipice; but I could not get free of two or

three well-meaning islanders, who held me fast by the skirts all the

time--for it must be conceived that our numbers and appointments had

drawn out the whole population to admire and attend us. After we

separated, each, like the nucleus of a comet, had his own distinct

train of attendants.--Visit the capital town, a wretched assemblage of

the basest huts, dirty without, and still dirtier within; pigs, fowls,

cows, men, women, and children, all living promiscuously under the

same roof, and in the same room--the brood-sow making (among the more

opulent) a distinguished inhabitant of the mansion. The compost, a

liquid mass of utter abomination, is kept in a square pond of seven

feet deep; when I censured it, they allowed it might be dangerous to

the _bairns_; but appeared unconscious of any other objection. I

cannot wonder they want meal, for assuredly they waste it. A great

_bowie_ or wooden vessel of porridge is made in the morning; a child

comes and sups a few spoonfuls; then Mrs. Sow takes her share; then

the rest of the children or the parents, and all at pleasure; then

come the poultry when the mess is more cool; the rest is flung upon

the dunghill--and the goodwife wonders and complains when she wants

meal in winter. They are a long-lived race, notwithstanding utter and

inconceivable dirt and sluttery. A man of sixty told me his father

died only last year, aged ninety-eight; nor was this considered as

very unusual.

"The clergyman of Dunrossness, in Zetland, visits these poor people once

a year, for a week or two during summer. In winter this is impossible,

and even the summer visit is occasionally interrupted for two years.

Marriages and baptisms are performed, as one of the Isles-men told me,

_by the slump_, and one of the children was old enough to tell the

clergyman who sprinkled him with water, 'Deil be in your fingers.' Last

time, four couple were married; sixteen children baptized. The

schoolmaster reads a portion of Scripture in the church each Sunday,

when the clergyman is absent; but the present man is unfit for this part

of his duty. The women knit worsted stockings, night-caps, and similar

trifles, which they exchange with any merchant vessels that approach

their lonely isle. In these respects they greatly regret the American

war; and mention with unction the happy days when they could get from an

American trader a bottle of peach-brandy or rum in exchange for a pair

of worsted stockings or a dozen of eggs. The humanity of their _master_

interferes much with the favorite but dangerous occupation of the

islanders, which is _fowling_, that is, taking the young sea-fowl from

their nests among these tremendous crags. About a fortnight before we

arrived, a fine boy of fourteen had dropped from the cliff, while in

prosecution of this amusement, into a roaring surf, by which he was

instantly swallowed up. The unfortunate mother was laboring at the

peat-moss at a little distance. These accidents do not, however, strike

terror into the survivors. They regard the death of an individual

engaged in these desperate exploits as we do the fate of a brave

relation who falls in battle, when the honor of his death furnishes a

balm to our sorrow. It therefore requires all the tacksman's authority

to prevent a practice so pregnant with danger. Like all other precarious

and dangerous employments, the occupation of the crags-men renders them

unwilling to labor at employments of a more steady description. The Fair

Isle inhabitants are a good-looking race, more like Zetlanders than

Orkney-men. Evenson, and other names of a Norwegian or Danish

derivation, attest their Scandinavian descent. Return and dine at Mr.

Strong's, having sent our cookery ashore, not to overburthen his

hospitality. In this place, and perhaps in the very cottage now

inhabited by Mr. Strong, the Duke of Medina Sidonia, Commander-in-Chief

of the Invincible Armada, wintered, after losing his vessel to the

eastward of the island. It was not till he had spent some weeks in this

miserable abode, that he got off to Norway. Independently of the moral

consideration, that, from the pitch of power in which he stood a few

days before, the proudest peer of the proudest nation in Europe found

himself dependent on the jealous and scanty charity of these secluded

islanders, it is scarce possible not to reflect with compassion on the

change of situation from the palaces of Estremadura to the hamlet of the

Fair Isle--

'Dost thou wish for thy deserts, O Son of Hodeirah?

Dost thou long for the gales of Arabia?'[73]

"Mr. Strong gave me a curious old chair belonging to Quendale, a

former proprietor of the Fair Isle, and which a more zealous antiquary

would have dubbed 'the Duke's chair.' I will have it refitted for

Abbotsford, however. About eight o'clock we take boat, amid the cheers

of the inhabitants, whose minds, subdued by our splendor, had been

secured by our munificence, which consisted in a moderate benefaction

of whiskey and tobacco, and a few shillings laid out on their staple

commodities. They agreed no such day had been seen in the isle. The

signal-post displayed its flags, and to recompense these distinguished

marks of honor, we hung out our colors, stood into the bay, and

saluted with three guns,

'Echoing from a thousand caves."

and then bear away for Orkney, leaving, if our vanity does not deceive

us, a very favorable impression on the mind of the inhabitants of the

Fair Isle. The tradition of the Fair Isle is unfavorable to those

shipwrecked strangers, who are said to have committed several acts of

violence to extort the supplies of provision, given them sparingly and

with reluctance by the islanders, who were probably themselves very

far from being well supplied.

"I omitted to say we were attended in the morning by two very sportive

whales, but of a kind, as some of our crew who had been on board

Greenland-men assured us, which it was very dangerous to attack. There

were two Gravesend smacks fishing off the isle. Lord, what a long

draught London makes!

"_11th August, 1814._--After a sound sleep to make amends for last

night, we find, at awaking, the vessel off the Start of Sanda, the

first land in the Orkneys which we could make. There a lighthouse has

been erected lately upon the best construction. Landed and surveyed

it. All in excellent order, and the establishment of the keepers in

the same style of comfort and respectability as elsewhere, far better

than the house of the master of the Fair Isle, and rivalling my own

baronial mansion of Abbotsford. Go to the top of the tower and survey

the island, which, as the name implies, is level, flat, and sandy,

quite the reverse of those in Zetland: it is intersected by creeks and

small lakes, and, though it abounds with shell marle, seems barren.

There is one dreadful inconvenience of an island life, of which we had

here an instance. The keeper's wife had an infant in her arms--her

first-born, too, of which the poor woman had been delivered without

assistance. Erskine told us of a horrid instance of malice which had

been practised in this island of Sanda. A decent tenant, during the

course of three or four successive years, lost to the number of

twenty-five cattle, stabbed as they lay in their fold by some

abominable wretch. What made the matter stranger was, that the poor

man could not recollect any reason why he should have had the ill-will

of a single being, only that in taking up names for the _militia_, a

duty imposed upon him by the Justices, he thought he might possibly

have given some unknown offence. The villain was never discovered.

"The wrecks on this coast were numerous before the erection of the

lighthouse. It was not uncommon to see five or six vessels on shore at

once. The goods and chattels of the inhabitants are all said to savor

of _Flotsome_ and _Jetsome_, as the floating wreck and that which is

driven ashore are severally called. Mr. Stevenson happened to observe

that the boat of a Sanda farmer had bad sails--'If it had been His

(_i. e._, God's) will that you hadna built sae many lighthouses

hereabout'--answered the Orcadian, with great composure--'I would have

had new sails last winter.' Thus do they talk and think upon these

subjects; and so talking and thinking, I fear the poor mariner has

little chance of any very anxious attempt to assist him. There is one

wreck, a Danish vessel, now aground under our lee. These Danes are the

stupidest seamen, by all accounts, that sail the sea. When this light

upon the Start of Sanda was established, the Commissioners, with

laudable anxiety to extend its utility, had its description and

bearings translated into Danish and sent to Copenhagen. But they

never attend to such trifles. The Norwegians are much better liked, as

a clever, hardy, sensible people. I forgot to notice there was a

Norwegian prize lying in the Sound of Lerwick, sent in by one of our

cruisers. This was a queer-looking, half-decked vessel, all tattered

and torn, and shaken to pieces, looking like Coleridge's Spectre Ship.

It was pitiable to see such a prize. Our servants went aboard, and got

one of their loaves, and gave a dreadful account of its composition. I

got and cut a crust of it; it was rye-bread, with a slight mixture of

pine-fir bark or sawings of deal. It was not good, but (as Charles

XII. said) might be eaten. But after all, if the people can be

satisfied with such bread as this, it seems hard to interdict it to

them. What would a Londoner say if, instead of his roll and muffins,

this black bread, relishing of tar and turpentine, were presented for

his breakfast? I would to God there could be a Jehovah-jireh, 'a ram

caught in the thicket,' to prevent the sacrifice of that people.

"The few friends who may see this Journal are much indebted for these

pathetic remarks to the situation under which they are recorded; for

since we left the lighthouse we have been struggling with adverse wind

(pretty high too), and a very strong tide, called the Rost of the

Start, which, like Sumburgh Rost, bodes no good to our roast and

boiled. The worst is that this struggle carries us past a most curious

spectacle, being no less than the carcases of two hundred and

sixty-five whales, which have been driven ashore in Taftsness Bay, now

lying close under us. With all the inclination in the world, it is

impossible to stand in close enough to verify this massacre of

Leviathans with our own eyes, as we do not care to run the risk of

being drawn ashore ourselves among the party. In fact, this species of

spectacle has been of late years very common among the isles. Mr.

Stevenson saw upwards of a hundred and fifty whales lying upon the

shore in a bay at Unst, in his northward trip. They are not large, but

are decided whales, measuring perhaps from fifteen to twenty-five

feet. They are easily mastered, for the first that is wounded among

the sounds and straits so common in the isles usually runs ashore. The

rest follow the blood, and, urged on by the boats behind, run ashore

also. A cut with one of the long whaling knives under the back-fin is

usually fatal to these huge animals. The two hundred and sixty-five

whales, now lying within two or three miles of us, were driven ashore

by seven boats only.

"_Five o'clock._--We are out of the _Rost_ (I detest that word), and

driving fast through a long sound among low green islands, which

hardly lift themselves above the sea--not a cliff or hill to be

seen--what a contrast to the land we have left! We are standing for

some creek or harbor, called Lingholm Bay, to lie to or anchor for the

night; for to pursue our course by night, and that a thick one, among

these isles, and islets, and sand-banks, is out of the question--clear

moonlight might do. Our sea is now moderate. But, oh gods and men!

what misfortunes have travellers to record! Just as the quiet of the

elements had reconciled us to the thought of dinner, we learn that an

unlucky sea has found its way into the galley during the last infernal

combustion, when the lee-side and boltsprit were constantly under

water; so our soup is poisoned with salt water--our cod and haddocks,

which cost ninepence this blessed morning, and would have been worth a

couple of guineas in London, are soused in their primitive

element--the curry is undone--and all gone to the devil. We all apply

ourselves to comfort our Lord High Admiral Hamilton, whose despair for

himself and the public might edify a patriot. His good-humor--which

has hitherto defied every incident, aggravated even by the

gout--supported by a few bad puns, and a great many fair promises on

the part of the steward and cook, fortunately restores his

equilibrium.

"_Eight o'clock._--Our supplemental dinner proved excellent, and we

have glided into an admirable roadstead or harbor, called Lingholm

Bay, formed by the small island of Lingholm embracing a small basin

dividing that islet from the larger isle of Stronsay. Both, as well as

Sanda, Eda, and others which we have passed, are low, green, and

sandy. I have seen nothing to-day worth marking, except the sporting

of a very large whale at some distance, and H.'s face at the news of

the disaster in the cook-room. We are to weigh at two in the morning,

and hope to reach Kirkwall, the capital of Orkney, by breakfast

to-morrow. I trust there are no _rusts_ or _rosts_ in the road. I

shall detest that word even when used to signify verd antique or

patina in the one sense, or roast venison in the other. Orkney shall

begin a new volume of these exquisite memoranda.

* * * * *

"OMISSION.--At Lerwick the Dutch fishers had again appeared on their

old haunts. A very interesting meeting took place between them and the

Lerwegians, most of them being old acquaintances. They seemed very

poor, and talked of having been pillaged of everything by the French,

and expected to have found Lerwick ruined by the war. They have all

the careful, quiet, and economical habits of their country, and go on

board their busses with the utmost haste so soon as they see the

Greenland sailors, who usually insult and pick quarrels with them. The

great amusement of the Dutch sailors is to hire the little ponies, and

ride up and down upon them. On one occasion, a good many years ago, an

English sailor interrupted this cavalcade, frightened the horses, and

one or two Dutchmen got tumbles. Incensed at this beyond their usual

moderation, they pursued the cause of their overthrow, and wounded him

with one of their knives. The wounded man went on board his vessel,

the crew of which, about fifty strong, came ashore with their long

flinching knives with which they cut up the whales, and falling upon

the Dutchmen, though twice their numbers, drove them all into the sea,

where such as could not swim were in some risk of being drowned. The

instance of aggression, or rather violent retaliation, on their part,

is almost solitary. In general they are extremely quiet, and employ

themselves in bartering their little merchandise of gin and

gingerbread for Zetland hose and night-caps."

Footnotes of the Chapter XXVIII.

[59: [Robert Stevenson, the eminent civil engineer, for

nearly half a century the engineer to the Board of Northern Lights.

He inaugurated the present Scottish lighthouse system, and no less

than twenty lighthouses were designed and constructed under his

superintendence, the most remarkable being the famous Bell Rock

tower. He died in 1850. Three of his sons, one of whom became his

biographer, greatly distinguished themselves in their father's

profession. Robert Louis Stevenson, in his fragment of family

history, _Records of a Family of Engineers_, has left a vivid

picture of his grandfather, though it be but an unfinished sketch.]]

[60: On being requested, while at breakfast, to inscribe

his name in the album of the tower, Scott penned immediately the

following lines:--

PHAROS LOQUITUR.

"Far in the bosom of the deep,

O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep;

A ruddy gem of changeful light,

Bound on the dusky brow of night,

The seaman bids my lustre hail,

And scorns to strike his timorous sail."]

[61: This is, without doubt, an allusion to some happy

day's excursion when his _first love_ was of the party.]

[62: Erskine--Sheriff of Shetland and Orkney.]

[63: Here occurs a rude scratch of drawing.]

[64: Lord Dundas was created Earl of Zetland in 1838, and

died in February, 1839.]

[65: Campbell--_Pleasures of Hope_.]

[66: Robert Hamilton, Sheriff of Lanarkshire, and

afterwards one of the Clerks of Session, was a particular favorite

of Scott--first, among many other good reasons, because he had been

a soldier in his youth, had fought gallantly and been wounded

severely in the American war, and was a very Uncle Toby in military

enthusiasm; secondly, because he was a brother antiquary of the

genuine Monkbarns breed; thirdly (last, not least), because he was,

in spite of the example of the head of his name and race, a steady

Tory. Mr. Hamilton sent for Scott when upon his deathbed in 1831,

and desired him to choose and carry off as a parting memorial any

article he liked in his collection of arms. Sir Walter (by that time

sorely shattered in his own health) selected the sword with which

his good friend had been begirt at Bunker's Hill.]

[67: During the winter of 1837-38, this worthy clergyman's

wife, his daughter, and a servant, perished within sight of the

manse, from a flaw in the ice on the loch--which they were crossing

as the nearest way home.--(1839.)]

[68: In his reviewal of Pitcairn's _Trials_ (1831), Scott

says: "In erecting this Earl's Castle of Scalloway, and other

expensive edifices, the King's tenants were forced to work in

quarries, transport stone, dig, delve, climb, and build, and submit

to all possible sorts of servile and painful labor, without either

meat, drink, hire, or recompense of any kind. 'My father,' said Earl

Patrick, 'built his house at Sumburgh on the sand, and it has given

way already; this of mine on the rock shall abide and endure.' He

did not or would not understand that the oppression, rapacity, and

cruelty, by means of which the house arose, were what the clergyman

really pointed to in his recommendation of a motto. Accordingly, the

huge tower remains wild and desolate--its chambers filled with sand,

and its rifted walls and dismantled battlements giving unrestrained

access to the roaring sea blast."--For more of Earl Patrick, see

Scott's _Miscellaneous Prose Works_, vol. xxi. pp. 230, 233; vol.

xxiii. pp. 327, 329.]

[69: Mr. W. S. Rose informs me, that when he was at school

at Winchester, the morris-dancers there used to exhibit a

sword-dance resembling that described at Camacho's wedding in Don

Quixote; and Mr. Morritt adds, that similar dances are even yet

performed in the villages about Rokeby every Christmas.]

[70: This is a solitary island, lying about halfway between

Orkney and Zetland.]

[71: An American Commodore.]

[72: Mr. Marjoribanks.]

[73: _Thalaba_, Book VIII.]