when he passed through Caithness on his way to John o’ Groat’s was continually ejaculating, “What a beautiful country!” “What a very beautiful country!” Some one who heard him remarked, “You can hardly call it a very beautiful country when there are no trees.”  “Trees,” cried the Yankee; “that’s all stuff Caithness, I calculate, is the finest clearing I ever saw in my life!”

We had often wondered, by the way, how the Harbour Works at Wick would be affected by the great storms, and we were afterwards greatly interested when we read in a Scotch provincial newspaper the following telegrams: 

   TERRIFIC GALE AT WICK THREATENED DESTRUCTION OF THE HARBOUR WORKS

   From our Wick Correspondent

Wick, Wednesday, 12:50—­A terrific storm is raging here to-day.  It is a gale from the south-east, with an extraordinary surf which is making a complete break of the new Harbour Works, where a number of large stones have been dislodged and serious damage is threatened.

   1:30 p.m.—­The storm still continues.  A large concrete block,
   weighing 300 tons, has been dislodged, and the whole building seems
   doomed unless the storm abates very soon.

These hours corresponded with the time we were crossing the Maiden’s Paps mountains, and we are not likely ever to forget the great danger we were in on that occasion.

We were rather backward in making a start on our journey to-day, for our feet were very sore; but we were advised to apply common soap to our stocking feet, from which we experienced great relief.  As we left the town we saw some ruins, which we assumed were those of Helmsdale Castle, and we had now the company of the railway, which, like our road, hugged the seacoast for some miles.  About two miles after leaving Helmsdale we sighted the first railway train we had seen since we left Aberdeen a fortnight before.  Under ordinary conditions this might have passed unnoticed, but as we had been travelling through such wild country we looked upon it as a sign that we were approaching a part of the country which had communication with civilisation, other than that afforded by sea or mail-coach.

[Illustration:  PICTISH TOWER (EXTERIOR).]

We now walked through the Parish of Loth, where in Glen Loth we were informed the last wolf in Scotland was killed, and about half a mile before reaching Brora we climbed over a stone fence to inspect the ruins of a Pictish castle standing between our road and the railway.  The ruins were circular, but some of the walls had been built in a zig-zag form, and had originally contained passages and rooms, some of which still existed, but they looked so dark that we did not care to go inside them, though we were informed that about two years before our visit excavations had been made and several human skulls were discovered.  The weather continued wet, and we passed through several showers on our way from Helmsdale to Brora, where, after a walk of twelve miles, we stayed for lunch, and it was again raining as we left there for Golspie.