We rose early and walked along the beach to Duncansbay Head, or Rongisby as the old maps have it, gathering a few of those charming little shells called John o’Groat Buckies by the way.  After walking round the site of John o’Groat’s house, we returned to our comfortable quarters at the Huna Inn for breakfast.  John o’Groat seems to have acted with more wisdom than many entrusted with the affairs of a nation.  When his sons quarrelled for precedence at his table, he consoled them with the promise that when the next family gathering took place the matter should be settled to the satisfaction of all.  During the interval he built a house having eight sides, each with a door and window, with an octagonal table in the centre so that each of his eight sons could enter at his own door and sit at his own side or “head” of the table.  By this arrangement—­which reminded us of King Arthur’s use of his round table—­he dispelled the animosity which previously prevailed.  After breakfast, and in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie, we made an entry in the famous Album with name and address, object of journey, and exact time of departure, and they promised to reserve a space beneath the entry to record the result, which was to be posted to them immediately we reached our journey’s end.

[Illustration:  JOHN O’GROAT’S HOUSE.]

It was about half-past ten o’clock when we started on our long walk along a circuitous and unknown route from John o’Groat’s to Land’s End.  Our host and hostess stood watching our departure and waving adieux until we disappeared in the distance.  We were in high spirits, and soon reached the junction of roads where we turned to the left towards Wick.  The first part of our walk was through the Parish of Canisbay, in the ancient records of which some reference is made to the more recent representatives of the Groat family, but as these were made two hundred years ago, they were now almost illegible.  Our road lay through a wild moorland district with a few farms and cottages here and there, mainly occupied by fishermen.  There were no fences to the fields or roads, and no bushes or trees, and the cattle were either herded or tied to stakes.

After passing through Canisbay, we arrived at the most northerly house in the Parish of Wick, formerly a public-house, and recognised as the half-way house between Wick and John o’Groat’s.  We found it occupied as a farm by Mr. John Nicolson, and here we saw the skeleton of a whale doing duty as a garden fence.  The dead whale, seventy feet in length, had been found drifting in the sea, and had been hauled ashore by the fishermen.  Mr. Nicolson had an ingenious son, who showed us a working sun-dial in the garden in front of the house which he had constructed out of a portion of the backbone, and in the same bone he had also formed a curious contrivance by which he could tell the day of the month.  He told us he was the only man that studied painting in the North, and invited us into the house,