122 THE RUINED PALACE. CHAP. x. 



swelling uplands. Looking seaward the prospect is 

 grand. Towards the north, the Orkneys are seen in 

 the distance, with the Man of Hoy standing out to sea. 

 Nearer, Dunnet cliffs are observed boldly fronting the 

 Pentland Firth; and the eye aches in its inability to 

 penetrate the mystery beyond. 



" I can well imagine the warm, sunny, summer even- 

 ings of bygone days, when the bishop would sit watch- 

 ing the rippling waters, or gazing at the last beams of 

 the setting sun, going down behind the world of waters 

 in a blaze of crimson and gold ! 



" Sixteen years ago, I remember making an attempt 

 to explore the inner recesses of the ruined palace. I 

 entered the cave underneath with a lighted candle ; but 

 I found it utterly impracticable to make my way without 

 pick and spade. There is a low door, which seems 

 to lead to subterraneous chambers ; but the passage is 

 choked with rubtish. 



" The little burn of Scrabster runs round the rock, 

 entering the sea at its north-west side. The water would 

 be useful to the castle inmates. I have sometimes seen 

 sailors ashore filling their barrels there. 



" Close beside the burn, a ridge of clay occurs, and 

 sweeping round Scrabster Bay it rises in some places to 

 about a hundred feet. It is blue and full of stones of 

 various sizes. I have often been astonished at its appear- 

 ance, and wondered where it could have come from. 

 Some call it boulder clay, and say that it is similar to 

 what skirts the base of some of the Alpine mountains. 

 It may be a Moraine. It seems to fill an irregular 



