OF 



i. ULTIMO THUL6 







sailor who has fought his way north- 

 ward across the stormy waters of the 

 Pentland Firth, finds in this land- 

 locked harbour a place of rest and 

 calm. Plain to hear is the roar of 

 the tide that rushes through the 

 Sound of Hoy, but its swell never 

 breaks the quiet of this peaceful 

 haven. Gazing on this unfamiliar 

 shore, it is hard to realise how brief 

 a space it is since the blue hills of 

 Lothian faded in the misty sky, while 

 stray shafts of sunlight glittered on 

 tower and roof and monument among 

 the smoke that brooded like a fate 



