34 TOUR IN SUTHERLAND. CH. III. 



nearly if not quite as northerly a point as Cape 



Wrath. 



Having passed the end of Loch Emboli, and 

 having procured a feed of corn for our horse from 

 Mr. Clark (the tenant of the sheep farm here), we 

 worked a zigzag course up the largest and steepest 

 hill we had to contend with throughout our whole 

 journey. Then descending, we passed the face 

 of a hill, cut and intersected by numberless small 

 streams of the most pure and transparent water 

 that I ever saw, which take their rise from the 

 limestone rocks above. 



Loch Emboli is one of the numerous creeks 

 reaching into the mainland from the North Sea, 

 and often serving for a refuge to shipping, which 

 otherwise must inevitably perish in every violent 

 north and north-east wind on this iron-bound coast. 

 On our way from this loch we passed the head of 

 a fine fresh-water lake, Loch Hope, and up a mag- 

 nificent glen called Glenmore (I believe), the sides 

 of which, woody and precipitous, abound in the 

 wilder ferce nakirce of the island. Wild and marten 

 cats live here in peace, and we frequently saw 

 eagles sailing about the higher cliffs, and sometimes 

 perched on some pinnacle of rock. We found out 

 by chance a very perfect echo, repeating every word, 

 and even sentences, with the greatest exactness, and 



