DIARY ON BOARD THE LIGHTHOUSE YACHT CONTINUED. -- THE ORKNEYS.
--KIRKWALL. -- HOY. -- THE STANDING STONES OF STENNIS, ETC.
1814
"_12th August, 1814._--With a good breeze and calm sea we weighed at
two in the morning, and worked by short tacks up to Kirkwall Bay,
and find ourselves in that fine basin upon rising in the morning.
The town looks well from the sea, but is chiefly indebted to the
huge old cathedral that rises out of the centre. Upon landing we
find it but a poor and dirty place, especially towards the harbor.
Farther up the town are seen some decent old-fashioned houses, and
the Sheriff's interest secures us good lodgings. Marchie goes to
hunt for a pointer. The morning, which was rainy, clears up
pleasantly, and Hamilton, Erskine, Duff, and I walk to Malcolm
Laing's, who has a pleasant house about half a mile from the town.
Our old acquaintance, though an invalid, received us kindly; he
looks very poorly, and cannot walk without assistance, but seems to
retain all the quick, earnest, and vivacious intelligence of his
character and manner. After this, visit the antiquities of the
place, namely, the Bishop's palace, the Earl of Orkney's castle, and
the cathedral, all situated within a stone-cast of each other. The
two former are ruinous. The most prominent part of the ruins of the
Bishop's palace is a large round tower, similar to that of Bothwell
in architecture, but not equal to it in size. This was built by
Bishop Reid, _tempore Jacobi V._, and there is a rude statue of him
in a niche in the front. At the north-east corner of the building is
a square tower of greater antiquity, called the Mense or Mass Tower;
but, as well as a second and smaller round tower, it is quite
ruinous. A suite of apartments of different sizes fills up the
space between these towers, all now ruinous. The building is said to
have been of great antiquity, but was certainly in a great measure
reëdified in the sixteenth century.
"Fronting this castle or palace of the Bishop, and about a gun-shot
distant, is that of the Earl of Orkney. The Earl's palace was built
by Patrick Stewart, Earl of Orkney, the same who erected that of
Scalloway, in Shetland. It is an elegant structure, partaking at
once of the character of a palace and castle. The building forms
three sides of an oblong square, but one of the sides extends
considerably beyond the others. The great hall must have been
remarkably handsome, opening into two or three huge rounds or
turrets, the lower part of which is divided by stone shafts into
three windows. It has two immense chimneys, the arches or lintels of
which are formed by a flat arch, as at Crichton Castle. There is
another very handsome apartment communicating with the hall like a
modern drawing-room, and which has, like the former, its projecting
turrets. The hall is lighted by a fine Gothic-shafted window at one
end, and by others on the sides. It is approached by a spacious and
elegant staircase of three flights of steps. The dimensions may be
sixty feet long, twenty broad, and fourteen high, but doubtless an
arched roof sprung from the side walls, so that fourteen feet was
only the height from the ground to the arches. Any modern architect,
wishing to emulate the real Gothic architecture, and apply it to the
purposes of modern splendor, might derive excellent hints from this
room. The exterior ornaments are also extremely elegant. The ruins,
once the residence of this haughty and oppressive Earl, are now so
disgustingly nasty, that it required all the zeal of an antiquary to
prosecute the above investigation. Architecture seems to have been
Earl Patrick's prevailing taste. Besides this castle and that of
Scalloway, he added to or enlarged the old castle of Bressay. To
accomplish these objects, he oppressed the people with severities
unheard of even in that oppressive age, drew down on himself a
shameful though deserved punishment, and left these dishonored ruins
to hand down to posterity the tale of his crimes and of his fall. We
may adopt, though in another sense, his own presumptuous motto--_Sic
Fuit, Est, et Erit_.
"We visit the cathedral, dedicated to St. Magnus, which greeted the
Sheriff's approach with a merry peal. Like that of Glasgow, this
church has escaped the blind fury of Reformation. It was founded in
1138, by Ronald, Earl of Orkney, nephew of the Saint. It is of great
size, being 260 feet long, or thereabout, and supported by
twenty-eight Saxon pillars, of good workmanship. The round arch
predominates in the building, but I think not exclusively. The
steeple (once a very high spire) rises upon four pillars of great
strength, which occupy each angle of the nave. Being destroyed by
lightning, it was rebuilt upon a low and curtailed plan. The
appearance of the building is rather massive and gloomy than
elegant, and many of the exterior ornaments, carving around the
doorways, etc., have been injured by time. We entered the cathedral,
the whole of which is kept locked, swept, and in good order,
although only the eastern end is used for divine worship. We walked
some time in the nave and western end, which is left unoccupied, and
has a very solemn effect as the avenue to the place of worship.
There were many tombstones on the floor and elsewhere; some,
doubtless, of high antiquity. One, I remarked, had the shield of
arms hung by the corner, with a helmet above it of a large
proportion, such as I have seen on the most ancient seals. But we
had neither time nor skill to decipher what noble Orcadian lay
beneath. The church is as well fitted up as could be expected; much
of the old carved oak remains, but with a motley mixture of modern
deal pews. All, however, is neat and clean, and does great honor to
the kirk-session who maintain its decency. I remarked particularly
Earl Patrick's seat, adjoining to that of the magistrates, but
surmounting it and every other in the church: it is surrounded with
a carved screen of oak, rather elegant, and bears his arms and
initials, and the motto I have noticed. He bears the royal arms
_without any mark of bastardy_ (his father was a natural son of
James V.) quarterly, with a lymphad or galley, the ancient arms of
the county. This circumstance was charged against him on his
trial.[74] I understand the late Mr. Gilbert Laing Meason left the
interest of £1000 to keep up this cathedral.
"There are in the street facing the cathedral the ruins of a much
more ancient castle; a proper feudal fortress belonging to the Earls
of Orkney, but called the King's Castle. It appears to have been
very strong, being situated near the harbor, and having, as appears
from the fragments, very massive walls. While the wicked Earl
Patrick was in confinement, one of his natural sons defended this
castle to extremity against the King's troops, and only surrendered
when it was nearly a heap of ruins, and then under condition he
should not be brought in evidence against his father.
"We dine at the inn, and drink the Prince Regent's health, being
that of the day--Mr. Baikie of Tankerness dines with us.
"_13th August, 1814._--A bad morning, but clears up. No letters from
Edinburgh. The country about Kirkwall is flat, and tolerably
cultivated. We see oxen generally wrought in the small country
carts, though they have a race of ponies, like those of Shetland,
but larger. Marchie goes to shoot on a hill called Whiteford, which
slopes away about two or three miles from Kirkwall. The grouse is
abundant, for the gentleman who chaperons Marchie killed thirteen
brace and a half, with a snipe. There are no partridges nor hares.
The soil of Orkney is better, and its air more genial than Shetland;
but it is far less interesting, and possesses none of the wild and
peculiar character of the more northern archipelago. All vegetables
grow here freely in the gardens, and there are one or two attempts
at trees where they are sheltered by walls. How ill they succeed may
be conjectured from our bringing with us a quantity of brushwood,
commissioned by Malcolm Laing from Aberbrothock, to be sticks to his
pease. This trash we brought two hundred miles. I have little to
add, except that the Orkney people have some odd superstitions about
a stone on which they take oaths to Odin. Lovers often perform this
ceremony in pledge of mutual faith, and are said to account it a
sacred engagement.--It is agreed that we go on board after dinner,
and sail with the next tide. The magistrates of Kirkwall present us
with the freedom of their ancient burgh; and Erskine, instead of
being cumbered with drunken sailors, as at Lerwick, or a drunken
schoolmaster, as at Fair Isle, is annoyed by his own Substitute.
This will occasion his remaining two days at Kirkwall, during which
time it is proposed we shall visit the lighthouse upon the dangerous
rocks called the Skerries, in the Pentland Frith; and then,
returning to the eastern side of Pomona, take up the counsellor at
Stromness. It is further settled that we leave Marchie with Erskine
to get another day's shooting. On board at ten o'clock, after a
little bustle in expediting our domestics, washerwomen, etc.
"_14th August, 1814._--Sail about four, and in rounding the mainland
of Orkney, called Pomona, encounter a very heavy sea; about ten
o'clock, get into the Sound of Holm or Ham, a fine smooth current
meandering away between two low green islands, which have little to
characterize them. On the right of the Sound is the mainland, and a
deep bay called Scalpa Flow indents it up to within two miles of
Kirkwall. A canal through this neck of the island would be of great
consequence to the burgh. We see the steeple and church of Kirkwall
across the island very distinctly. Getting out of the Sound of Holm,
we stand in to the harbor or roadstead of Widewall, where we find
seven or eight foreign vessels bound for Ireland, and a sloop
belonging to the lighthouse service. These roadsteads are common all
through the Orkneys, and afford excellent shelter for small vessels.
The day is pleasant and sunny, but the breeze is too high to permit
landing at the Skerries. Agree, therefore, to stand over for the
mainland of Scotland, and visit Thurso. Enter the Pentland Frith, so
celebrated for the strength and fury of its tides, which is boiling
even in this pleasant weather; we see a large ship battling with
this heavy current, and though with all her canvas set and a breeze,
getting more and more involved. See the two Capes of Dungsby or
Duncansby, and Dunnet-head, between which lies the celebrated John
o' Groat's house, on the north-eastern extremity of Scotland. The
shores of Caithness rise bold and rocky before us,--a contrast to
the Orkneys, which are all low, excepting the Island of Hoy. On
Duncansby-head appear some remarkable rocks, like towers, called the
Stacks of Duncansby. Near this shore runs the remarkable breaking
tide called the _Merry Men of Mey_, whence Mackenzie takes the
scenery of a poem--
'Where the dancing Men of Mey,
Speed the current to the land.'[75]
Here, according to his locality, the Caithness-man witnessed the
vision, in which was introduced the song, translated by Gray, under
the title of The Fatal Sisters. On this subject, Mr. Baikie told me
the following remarkable circumstance: A clergyman told him, that
while some remnants of the Norse were yet spoken in North Ronaldsha,
he carried thither the translation of Mr. Gray, then newly
published, and read it to some of the old people as referring to the
ancient history of their islands. But so soon as he had proceeded a
little way, they exclaimed they knew it very well in the original,
and had often sung it to himself when he asked them for an old Norse
song; they called it The Enchantresses.--The breeze dies away
between two wicked little islands called Swona and Stroma,--the
latter belonging to Caithness, the former to Orkney.--_Nota Bene_.
The inhabitants of the rest of the Orcades despise those of Swona
for eating limpets, as being the last of human meannesses. Every
land has its fashions. The Fair-Isles-men disdain Orkney-men for
eating dog-fish. Both islands have dangerous reefs and whirlpools,
where, even in this fine day, the tide rages furiously. Indeed, the
large high unbroken billows, which at every swell hide from our deck
each distant object, plainly intimate what a dreadful current this
must be when vexed by high or adverse winds. Finding ourselves
losing ground in the tide, and unwilling to waste time, we give up
Thurso--run back into the roadstead or bay of Long-Hope, and anchor
under the fort. The bay has four entrances and safe anchorage in
most winds, and having become a great rendezvous for shipping (there
are nine vessels lying here at present) has been an object of
attention with Government.
"Went ashore after dinner, and visited the fort, which is only
partly completed: it is a _flêche_ to the sea, with eight guns,
twenty-four pounders, but without any land defences; the guns are
mounted _en barbette_, without embrasures, each upon a kind of
movable stage, which stage wheeling upon a pivot in front, and
traversing by means of wheels behind, can be pointed in any
direction that may be thought necessary. Upon this stage, the
gun-carriage moves forward and recoils, and the depth of the parapet
shelters the men even better than an embrasure. At a little distance
from this battery they are building a Martello tower, which is to
cross the fire of the battery, and also that of another projected
tower upon the opposite point of the bay. The expedience of these
towers seems excessively problematical. Supposing them impregnable,
or nearly so, a garrison of fourteen or fifteen men may be always
blockaded by a very trifling number, while the enemy dispose of all
in the vicinity at their pleasure. In the case of Long-Hope, for
instance, a frigate might disembark 100 men, take the fort in the
rear, where it is undefended even by a palisade, destroy the
magazines, spike and dismount the cannon, carry off or cut out any
vessels in the roadstead, and accomplish all the purposes that could
bring them to so remote a spot, in spite of a sergeant's party in
the Martello tower, and without troubling themselves about them at
all. Meanwhile, Long-Hope will one day turn out a flourishing place;
there will soon be taverns and slop-shops, where sailors rendezvous
in such numbers; then will come quays, docks, and warehouses; and
then a thriving town. Amen, so be it. This is the first fine day we
have enjoyed to an end since Sunday, 31st ult. Rainy, cold, and
hazy, have been our voyages around these wild islands; I hope the
weather begins to mend, though Mr. Wilson, our master, threatens a
breeze to-morrow. We are to attempt the Skerries, if possible; if
not, we will, I believe, go to Stromness.
"_15th August, 1814._--Fine morning. We get again into the Pentland
Frith, and with the aid of a pilot-boat belonging to the lighthouse
service, from South Ronaldsha, we attempt the Skerries.
Notwithstanding the fair weather, we have a specimen of the violence
of the flood-tide, which forms whirlpools on the shallow sunken
rocks by the islands of Swona and Stroma, and in the deep water
makes strange, smooth, whirling, and swelling eddies, called by the
sailors, _wells_. We run through the _wells of Tuftile_ in
particular, which, in the least stress of weather, wheel a large
ship round and round, without respect either to helm or sails. Hence
the distinction of _wells_ and _waves_ in Old English; the _well_
being that smooth, glassy, oily-looking eddy, the force of which
seems to the eye almost resistless. The bursting of the waves in
foam around these strange eddies has a bewildering and confused
appearance, which it is impossible to describe. Get off the Skerries
about ten o'clock, and land easily; it is the first time a boat has
got there for several days. The _Skerries_[76] is an island about
sixty acres, of fine short herbage, belonging to Lord Dundas; it is
surrounded by a reef of precipitous rocks, not very high, but
inaccessible, unless where the ocean has made ravines among them,
and where stairs have been cut down to the water for the lighthouse
service. Those inlets have a romantic appearance, and have been
christened by the sailors, the Parliament House, the Seals'
Lying-in-Hospital, etc. The last inlet, after rushing through a deep
chasm, which is open overhead, is continued under ground, and then
again opens to the sky in the middle of the island; in this hole the
seals bring out their whelps; when the tide is high, the waves rise
up through this aperture in the middle of the isle--like the blowing
of a whale in noise and appearance. There is another round cauldron
of solid rock, to which the waves have access through a natural arch
in the rock, having another and lesser arch rising just above it; in
hard weather, the waves rush through both apertures with a horrid
noise; the workmen called it the Carron Blast, and, indeed, the
variety of noises which issued from the abyss, somewhat reminded me
of that engine. Take my rifle, and walk round the cliffs in search
of seals, but see none, and only disturb the digestion of certain
aldermen-cormorants, who were sitting on the points of the crags
after a good fish breakfast; only made one good shot out of four.
The lighthouse is too low, and on the old construction, yet it is of
the last importance. The keeper is an old man-of-war's-man, of whom
Mr. Stevenson observed that he was a great swearer when he first
came; but after a year or two's residence in this solitary abode,
became a changed man. There are about fifty head of cattle on the
island; they must be got in and off with great danger and
difficulty. There is no water upon the isle, except what remains
after rain in some pools; these sometimes dry in summer, and the
cattle are reduced to great straits. Leave the isle about one; and
the wind and tide being favorable, crowd all sail, and get on at the
rate of fourteen miles an hour. Soon reach our old anchorage at the
Long-Hope, and passing, stand to the north-westward, up the Sound of
Hoy, for Stromness.
"I should have mentioned, that in going down the Pentland Frith this
morning, we saw Johnnie Groat's house, or rather the place where it
stood, now occupied by a storehouse. Our pilot opines there was no
such man as Johnnie Groat, for, he says, he cannot hear that anybody
_ever saw him_. This reasoning would put down most facts of
antiquity. They gather shells on the shore, called _Johnnie Groat's
buckies_, but I cannot procure any at present. I may also add, that
the interpretation given to _wells_ may apply to the Wells of Slain,
in the fine ballad of Clerk Colvill; such eddies in the romantic
vicinity of Slains Castle would be a fine place for a mermaid.[77]
"Our wind fails us, and, what is worse, becomes westerly. The Sound
has now the appearance of a fine land-locked bay, the passages
between the several islands being scarce visible. We have a superb
view of Kirkwall Cathedral, with a strong gleam of sunshine upon it.
Gloomy weather begins to collect around us, particularly on the
island of Hoy, which, covered with gloom and vapor, now assumes a
majestic mountainous character. On Pomona we pass the Hill of
Orphir, which reminds me of the clergyman of that parish, who was
called to account for some of his inaccuracies to the General
Assembly; one charge he held particularly cheap, namely, that of
drunkenness. 'Reverend Moderator,' said he, in reply, 'I _do_ drink,
as other gentlemen do.' This Orphir of the north must not be
confounded with the Orphir of the south. From the latter came gold,
silver, and precious stones; the former seems to produce little
except peats. Yet these are precious commodities, which some of the
Orkney Isles altogether want, and lay waste and burn the turf of
their land instead of importing coal from Newcastle. The Orcadians
seem by no means an alert or active race; they neglect the excellent
fisheries which lie under their very noses, and in their mode of
managing their boats, as well as in the general tone of urbanity and
intelligence, are excelled by the less favored Zetlanders. I observe
they always crowd their boat with people in the bows, being the
ready way to send her down in any awkward circumstance. There are
remains of their Norwegian descent and language in North Ronaldsha,
an isle I regret we did not see. A missionary preacher came ashore
there a year or two since, but being a very little black-bearded
unshaved man, the seniors of the isle suspected him of being an
ancient Pecht or Pict, and _no canny_, of course. The schoolmaster
came down to entreat our worthy Mr. Stevenson, then about to leave
the island, to come up and verify whether the preacher was an
ancient Pecht, yea or no. Finding apologies were in vain, he rode up
to the house where the unfortunate preacher, after three nights'
watching, had got to bed, little conceiving under what odious
suspicion he had fallen. As Mr. S. declined disturbing him, his
boots were produced, which being a _little_--_little_--_very little_
pair, confirmed, in the opinion of all the bystanders, the suspicion
of Pechtism. Mr. S. therefore found it necessary to go into the poor
man's sleeping apartment, where he recognized one Campbell,
heretofore an ironmonger in Edinburgh, but who had put his hand for
some years to the missionary plough; of course he warranted his
quondam acquaintance to be no ancient Pecht. Mr. Stevenson carried
the same schoolmaster who figured in the adventure of the Pecht, to
the mainland of Scotland, to be examined for his office. He was
extremely desirous to see a tree; and, on seeing one, desired to
know what _girss_ it was that grew at the top on't--the leaves
appearing to him to be grass. They still speak a little Norse, and
indeed I hear every day words of that language; for instance, _Ja,
kul_, for '_Yes, sir_.' We creep slowly up Hoy Sound, working under
the Pomona shore; but there is no hope of reaching Stromness till we
have the assistance of the evening tide. The channel now seems like
a Highland loch; not the least ripple on the waves. The passage is
narrowed, and (to the eye) blocked up by the interposition of the
green and apparently fertile isle of Græmsay, the property of Lord
Armadale.[78] Hoy looks yet grander, from comparing its black and
steep mountains with this verdant isle. To add to the beauty of the
Sound, it is rendered lively by the successive appearance of seven
or eight whaling vessels from Davies' Straits; large strong ships,
which pass successively, with all their sails set, enjoying the
little wind that is. Many of these vessels display the _garland_;
that is, a wreath of ribbons which the young fellows on board have
got from their sweethearts, or come by otherwise, and which hangs
between the foremast and mainmast, surmounted sometimes by a small
model of the vessel. This garland is hung up upon the 1st of May,
and remains till they come into port. I believe we shall dodge here
till the tide makes about nine, and then get into Stromness: no
boatman or sailor in Orkney thinks of the wind in comparison of the
tides and currents. We must not complain, though the night gets
rainy, and the Hill of Hoy is now completely invested with vapor and
mist. In the forepart of the day we executed very cleverly a task of
considerable difficulty and even danger.
"_16th August, 1814._--Get into Stromness Bay, and anchor before the
party are up. A most decided rain all night. The bay is formed by a
deep indention in the mainland, or Pomona; on one side of which
stands Stromness--a fishing village and harbor of _call_ for the
Davies' Straits whalers, as Lerwick is for the Greenlanders. Betwixt
the vessels we met yesterday, seven or eight which passed us this
morning, and several others still lying in the bay, we have seen
between twenty and thirty of these large ships in this remote place.
The opposite side of Stromness Bay is protected by Hoy, and Græmsay
lies between them; so that the bay seems quite land-locked, and the
contrast between the mountains of Hoy, the soft verdure of Græmsay,
and the swelling hill of Orphir on the mainland, has a beautiful
effect. The day clears up, and Mr. Rae, Lord Armadale's factor,
comes off from his house, called Clestrom, upon the shore opposite
to Stromness, to breakfast with us. We go ashore with him. His farm
is well cultivated, and he has procured an excellent breed of horses
from Lanarkshire, of which county he is a native; strong hardy
Galloways, fit for labor or hacks. By this we profited, as Mr. Rae
mounted us all, and we set off to visit the Standing Stones of
Stenhouse or Stennis.
"At the upper end of the bay, about halfway between Clestrom and
Stromness, there extends a loch of considerable size, of fresh
water, but communicating with the sea by apertures left in a long
bridge or causeway which divides them. After riding about two miles
along this lake, we open another called the Loch of Harray, of about
the same dimensions, and communicating with the lower lake, as the
former does with the sea, by a stream, over which is constructed a
causeway, with openings to suffer the flow and reflux of the water,
as both lakes are affected by the tide. Upon the tongues of land
which, approaching each other, divide the lakes of Stennis and
Harray, are situated the Standing Stones. The isthmus on the eastern
side exhibits a semicircle of immensely large upright pillars of
unhewn stone, surrounded by a mound of earth. As the mound is
discontinued, it does not seem that the circle was ever completed.
The flat or open part of the semicircle looks up a plain, where, at
a distance, is seen a large tumulus. The highest of these stones may
be about sixteen or seventeen feet, and I think there are none so
low as twelve feet. At irregular distances are pointed out other
unhewn pillars of the same kind. One, a little to the westward, is
perforated with a round hole, perhaps to bind a victim; or rather, I
conjecture, for the purpose of solemnly attesting the deity, which
the Scandinavians did by passing their head through a ring,--_vide_
Eyrbiggia Saga. Several barrows are scattered around this strange
monument. Upon the opposite isthmus is a complete circle, of
ninety-five paces in diameter, surrounded by standing stones, less
in size than the others, being only from ten or twelve to fourteen
feet in height, and four in breadth. A deep trench is drawn around
this circle on the outside of the pillars, and four tumuli, or
mounds of earth, are regularly placed, two on each side.
"Stonehenge excels these monuments, but I fancy they are otherwise
unparalleled in Britain. The idea that such circles were exclusively
Druidical is now justly exploded. The northern nations all used such
erections to mark their places of meeting, whether for religious
purposes or civil policy; and there is repeated mention of them in
the Sagas. See the Eyrbiggia Saga,[79] for the establishment of the
Helga-fels, or holy mount, where the people held their Comitia, and
where sacrifices were offered to Thor and Woden. About the centre of
the semicircle is a broad flat stone, probably once the altar on
which human victims were sacrificed.--Mr. Rae seems to think the
common people have no tradition of the purpose of these stones, but
probably he has not inquired particularly. He admits they look upon
them with superstitious reverence; and it is evident that those
which have fallen down (about half the original number) have been
wasted by time, and not demolished. The materials of these monuments
lay near, for the shores and bottom of the lake are of the same kind
of rock. How they were raised, transported, and placed upright, is a
puzzling question. In our ride back, noticed a round entrenchment,
or _tumulus_, called the Hollow of Tongue.
"The hospitality of Mrs. Rae detained us to an early dinner at
Clestrom. About four o'clock took our long-boat and rowed down the
bay to visit the Dwarfie Stone of Hoy. We have all day been pleased
with the romantic appearance of that island, for though the Hill of
Hoy is not very high, perhaps about 1200 feet, yet rising
perpendicularly (almost) from the sea, and being very steep and
furrowed with ravines, and catching all the mists from the western
ocean, it has a noble and picturesque effect in every point of view.
We land upon the island, and proceed up a long and very swampy
valley broken into peat-bogs. The one side of this valley is formed
by the Mountain of Hoy, the other by another steep hill, having at
the top a circular belt of rock; upon the slope of this last hill,
and just where the principal mountain opens into a wide and
precipitous and circular _corrie_ or hollow, lies the Dwarfie Stone.
It is a huge sandstone rock, of one solid stone, being about seven
feet high, twenty-two feet long, and seventeen feet broad. The upper
end of this stone is hewn into a sort of apartment containing two
beds of stone and a passage between them. The uppermost and largest
is five feet eight inches long, by two feet broad, and is furnished
with a stone pillow. The lower, supposed for the Dwarf's Wife, is
shorter, and rounded off, instead of being square at the corners.
The entrance may be about three feet and a half square. Before it
lies a huge stone, apparently intended to serve the purpose of a
door, and shaped accordingly. In the top, over the passage which
divides the beds, there is a hole to serve for a window or chimney,
which was doubtless originally wrought square with irons, like the
rest of the work, but has been broken out by violence into a
shapeless hole. Opposite to this stone, and proceeding from it in a
line down the valley, are several small barrows, and there is a very
large one on the same line, at the spot where we landed. This seems
to indicate that the monument is of heathen times, and probably was
meant as the temple of some northern edition of the _Dii Manes_.
There are no symbols of Christian devotion--and the door is to the
westward; it therefore does not seem to have been the abode of a
hermit, as Dr. Barry[80] has conjectured. The Orcadians have no
tradition on the subject, excepting that they believe it to be the
work of a dwarf, to whom, like their ancestors, they attribute
supernatural powers and malevolent disposition. They conceive he may
be seen sometimes sitting at the door of his abode, but he vanishes
on a nearer approach. Whoever inhabited this den certainly enjoyed
'Pillow cold and sheets not warm.'
"Duff, Stevenson, and I now walk along the skirts of the Hill of
Hoy, to rejoin Robert Hamilton, who in the mean while had rode down
to the clergyman's house, the wet and boggy walk not suiting his
gout. Arrive at the manse completely wet, and drink tea there. The
clergyman (Mr. Hamilton) has procured some curious specimens of
natural history for Bullock's Museum, particularly a pair of fine
eaglets. He has just got another of the golden, or white kind, which
he intends to send him. The eagle, with every other ravenous bird,
abounds among the almost inaccessible precipices of Hoy, which
afford them shelter, while the moors, abounding with grouse, and the
small uninhabited islands and holms, where sheep and lambs are
necessarily left unwatched, as well as the all-sustaining ocean,
give these birds of prey the means of support. The clergyman told us
that a man was very lately alive in the island of ....., who,
when an infant, was transported from thence by an eagle over a broad
sound, or arm of the sea, to the bird's nest in Hoy. Pursuit being
instantly made, and the eagle's nest being known, the infant was
found there playing with the young eaglets. A more ludicrous
instance of transportation he himself witnessed. Walking in the
fields, he heard the squeaking of a pig for some time, without being
able to discern whence it proceeded, until looking up, he beheld the
unfortunate grunter in the talons of an eagle, who soared away with
him towards the summit of Hoy. From this it may be conjectured, that
the island is very thinly inhabited; in fact, we only saw two or
three little wigwams. After tea we walked a mile farther, to a point
where the boat was lying, in order to secure the advantage of the
flood-tide. We rowed with toil across one stream of tide, which set
strongly up between Græmsay and Hoy; but, on turning the point of
Græmsay, the other branch of the same flood-tide carried us with
great velocity alongside our yacht, which we reached about nine
o'clock. Between riding, walking, and running, we have spent a very
active and entertaining day.
"_Domestic Memoranda._--The eggs on Zetland and Orkney are very
indifferent, having an earthy taste, and being very small. But the
hogs are an excellent breed--queer wild-looking creatures, with
heads like wild-boars, but making capital bacon."
Footnotes of the Chapter XXIX.
[74: "This noted oppressor was finally brought to trial,
and beheaded at the Cross of Edinburgh (6th February, 1614). It is
said that the King's mood was considerably heated against him by
some ill-chosen and worse written Latin inscriptions with which his
father and himself had been unlucky enough to decorate some of their
insular palaces. In one of these, Earl Robert, the father, had given
his own designation thus: 'Orcadiæ Comes _Rex_ Jacobi Quinti
Filius.' In this case he was not, perhaps, guilty of anything worse
than bad Latin. But James VI., who had a keen nose for puzzling out
treason, and with whom an assault and battery upon Priscian ranked
in nearly the same degree of crime, had little doubt that the use of
the nominative _Rex_, instead of the genitive _Regis_, had a
treasonable savor."--Scott's _Miscellaneous Prose Works_, vol.
xxiii. p. 232.]
[75: Henry Mackenzie's Introduction to _The Fatal
Sisters_.--_Works_, 1808, vol. viii. p. 63.]
[76: "A Skerrie means a flattish rock which the sea does
not overflow."--Edmonstone's _View of the Zetlands_.]
[77: Clerk Colvill falls a sacrifice to a meeting with "a
fair Mermaid," whom he found washing her "Sark of Silk" on this
romantic shore. He had been warned by his "gay lady" in these
words:--
"O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,
Or it will cost ye muckle strife,
Ride never by the Wells of Slane,
If ye wad live and brook your life."]
[78: Sir William Honeyman, Bart.--a Judge of the Court of
Session by the title of Lord Armadale.]
[79: _Miscellaneous Prose Works_, vol. v. p. 355.]
[80: _History of the Orkney Islands_, by the Rev. George
Barry, D. D., 4to, Edinburgh, 1805.]