174 ORKNEY. 



and no one who goes there on a clear day will hesitate to 

 admit that the r eene before him, looking seaward, is one 

 of exquisite beauty. 



In calm weather, the sea, land-locked by the islands, 

 resembles a vast lake, clear and brigiit as a mirror, and 

 without a ripple save from the gentle impulse of the tide. 

 Here, a bluff headland stands out in bold relief against 

 the horizon ; there, the more distant islet is lost in sea and 

 sky ; on one side a shelving rock sends out a black 

 tongue-like point, sharp as a needle, losing itself in the 

 water, where it forms one of those reefs so common 

 among the^ islands, and so fatal to strangers, but which 

 every Orkney boatman knows as we do the streets of our 

 native town ; while on the other side a green holm, 

 covered with cattle and ponies, slopes gently to the 

 water's edge. 



Then there is the dovetailing and intercrossing of one 

 point with another, the purple tints of the islands, the 

 deep blue of the sea, the indentations of the coast, the 

 boats plying their oars or lingering lazily on the waters, 

 the white sails of the pleasure yachts contrasting with the 

 dark brown canvas of the fishing craft, and here and there 

 a large merchant vessel entering or leaving the harbour ; 

 all these combine to make a most lovely picture, in 

 which the additional ornament of trees is not missed. 



And again, in a storm, the boiling tides, the green and 

 white billows, the pillars of foam which spout aloft when 

 dashed against the rocks, make a scene with which the 

 absence of trees is in perfect harmony. You feel thai 



