London to John O Groat's. 407 



made half of the seventeen miles between Wick and 

 John O'Grroat's, I began to look with the liveliest 

 interest for the first glimpse of the Orkneys, but 

 projecting and ridgy headlands intercepted the pros- 

 pect. About three p.m., as the road emerged from 

 behind one of them, those famous islands burst 

 suddenly into view ! There they were ! in full 

 sight, so near that their grain-fields and white cottages 

 and all their distinguishing features seemed within 

 half a mile's distance. This was the most interesting 

 coup d'ceil that I ever caught in any country. Here, 

 then, after weeks and months of travel on foot, I 

 was at the end of my journey. Through all the 

 days of this period I had faced northward, and here 

 was the Ultima Thule, the goal and termination of 

 my tour. The road to the sea diverged from the 

 main turnpike, which continued around the coast to 

 Thurso. Followed this branch a couple of miles, 

 when it ended at the door of a little, quiet, one-story 

 inn on the very shore of the Pentland Firth. It 

 was a moment of the liveliest enjoyment to me. 

 When I left London, about the middle of July, I 

 was slowly recovering from a severe indisposition and 

 hardly expected to be able to make more than a few 

 miles of my projected walk. But I had gathered 

 strength daily, and when I brought up at this little 



