52 FEBRUARY 



happens at times, the fierce cold abates and the 

 biting blasts are lulled, the cloud mantle rolls away, 

 and a truly glorious sun swings overhead. The very 

 bareness of the land, which makes the bitter wind 

 so intolerable, seems to double the amount of sun- 

 shine ; the browns of the landscape waken into 

 dull gold, russet, and maroon ; the leaden surface 

 of the pools and winding river change to intense 

 azure, and the distance takes tender tints of violet 

 and pearl. It is then one becomes aware of the 

 splendid quality of the atmosphere, and comes to 

 understand how the hardy men of Caithness, braced 

 and sweetened by actinic virtue, can put in long 

 spells of ferocious weather, enough to knock all 

 courage out of coddled city folk. 



For nine days past (February 1895) the village of 

 Halkirk has been the only part of the universe to 

 which we have had access, or, indeed, with which 

 we have had any intercourse, except by telegram. 

 It happens so seldom that the even tenor of the 

 mail bags and daily papers is interrupted in these 

 islands, that one feels the exponent of a novel series 

 of sensations. Not one of the old people in the 

 village can testify to a severer ' lying storm ' than 

 that which we are now experiencing. Not that it 



