278 A Trip to the Island of Hoy. [Sess. 



the inn at that time was rather primitive — there is a fine 

 hotel now — the invitation was gladly accepted, and the 

 hospitality displayed towards us will not readily be effaced 

 from my memory. Not only was I authorised to shoot seals 

 but was invited to shoot grouse : and, having the factor and 

 gamekeepers at my disposal, I could inspect the places of 

 interest on the island at my own sweet will. To most people 

 these places are generally regarded as the Enchanted Car- 

 buncle on the Ward Hill, the Old Man of Hoy, the Dwarfie 

 Stone, and the Kame Eock, whose echo gives back shout for 

 shout and scream for scream. To me, however, the wild cliff 

 scenery and the long list of the feathered tribe which haunt 

 their stupendous precipices, the plants found in that wild 

 region, and even the shells on the shore, constituted an irre- 

 sistible attraction. The island is over a dozen miles in length 

 by about six miles across. Near the south end it is all but 

 severed by an arm of the sea, the Longhope, which is one of 

 the finest natural harbours of the world. Two years ago the 

 part called Walls, south of the Longhope, was at high water 

 completely isolated, constituting an island. The present pro- 

 prietor, however, at great expense formed a road across the 

 neck of the peninsula, so that the inhabitants of this part, 

 which is thickly populated, are no longer dependent on the 

 tides. Generally speaking, however, the commerce of Walls 

 is carried on by sea, a pier haviug been recently erected 

 there. At the west end of the Longhope stands the seat of 

 the proprietor, Melsetter House, which commands a magnifi- 

 cent view down the loch. 



By the time we had lunched the afternoon was wearing 

 away, so we walked up to the top of the Berry, which over- 

 looks a stupendous cliff of sheer descent into the sea. The 

 tide was coming in with a fury deafening to the ears, the 

 surging waves rolling in their wrath against the bottom of 

 the precipice. The melancholy grandeur of the scene, the 

 billows of the broad Atlantic in all their varied forms, the 

 rocky precipices that echo the ceaseless roar of the raging 

 sea, and the screaming of the thousands of seafowl, are all 

 indelibly riveted in my memory. From the top of the 

 Berry a splendid view is got of the Sneuk-head, which is 

 the highest part of the perpendicular precipice in sight, the 



