In gfeggnt, 



THE first view of Sutherlandshire is apt to be disappointing. It 

 is often gained by the traveller along the western route in this 

 wise. The Clydesdale rounds Ru Coygach to roll a good deal 

 in the sea that sets into the Minch ; but as soon as the entrance 

 to Loch Inver is gained, the steamer is less buffeted by the 

 fast-running swells. More especially is this the case when it 

 leaves Sheep Island behind a bare, oblong rock tenanted by 

 a few of the animals which give it a name. Once in Loch 

 Inver itself, eager eyes are directed towards the shore from the 

 dank and dripping steamer. The cold, dark Laurentian rocks 

 are seen edged with foam. All above is smothered in mists. 

 It is impossible to discern anything which is forty feet above 

 the sea-level. The Captain politely points out the quarter 

 where Suilven should gloom against the sky, and Quinaig 

 majestically wear her diadem of quartz, and, beyond all, Ben 

 More raise his mighty mass. Alas ! the keenest gaze cannot 

 pierce their mist veils, and nothing can be more tantalising 

 than the various criticisms on the rival mountains uttered by 

 those round the visitor familiar with the view. But there the 

 mists are, aud they impress him as at the outset of his tour he 

 stands, his " sea-gown scarfed around him," with the conviction 

 that no one should go to Sutherlandshire who cannot give the 

 climate plenty of time to recover from these frequent fits of 

 sulkiness. Like a spoilt child, even in summer Sutherland- 

 shire hides her face, it may be for days, and then, without the 

 least apparent motive, the mist-clouds rise, the sea brightens 

 out against the great brown mountains, and the beholder is 



