DUNNE T CLIFFS. 



long dreary sands of Dunnet lay before me blank and 

 bare, or tossed into fantastic hillocks. The sand was 

 blowing before the wind. The waves were thundering 

 along the shore. 



" I saw a man breaking sandstone boulders. He little 

 thought of what he was doing, or of the time when ice 

 went grinding along the surface of the stone he was 

 hammering. No : he was building a cottage, and the 

 stone was only a stone to him, and nothing more. 



" Passing on, I left all human habitations behind, and 

 had only heather, heather, before me. The heather was 

 brown and burnt-like, so severe had been the weather 

 during the past winter. As I passed on, I found a 

 cocoon of the Emperor Moth sticking on a piece of 

 heather. I was next brought to a stop by some crimson- 

 tipped lichens moss cups. They were taller than any 

 specimens I had seen before, but they were under shelter. 



"After crossing another burn, and striding through 

 heather only ankle deep, I found myself on the edge of 

 the precipitous cliffs of Dunnet Head. Before I de- 

 scended down their front I looked around. Orkney 

 seemed quite near, with the snow-wreaths on its hills. 

 The waves of the Pentland Firth were rolling away 

 westerly. 



" Down I went ! down ! It was at that place only 

 about 100 feet deep. When I reached the foot of the 

 cliff, I gazed upward in wonder and admiration, full of 

 intense curiosity to see the various layers of sand for 

 such it once was. It is not every day that one stands 

 at the foot of such a cliff. 



