itting many of the public buildings
into their niches. We saw few more imposing structures in Britain than
the new postoffice at Aberdeen, and it was typical of the solidity and
architectural magnificence of the Queen City of the North. But Aberdeen
will be on the route of any tourist who goes to Northern Scotland, so I
will not write of it here. It is a great motoring center, with finely
built and well equipped garages.

As originally planned we were to go southward from Aberdeen by the way
of Braemar and Balmoral in the very heart of the Highland country--the
route usually followed by British motorists. It passes through wild
scenery, but the country has few historic attractions. The Motor Union
representative had remarked that we should probably want to spend
several days at Braemar, famous for its scenic surroundings--the wild
and picturesque dales, lakes and hills near at hand; but to Americans,
from the country of the Yellowstone and Yosemite, the scenery of
Scotland can be only an incident in a tour. From this consideration, we
preferred to take the coast road southward, which, though it passes
through a comparatively tame-looking country, is thickly strewn with
places replete with stirring and romantic incidents of Scottish
history. Nor had we any cause to regret our choice.

Fifteen miles south of Aberdeen we came in sight of Dunnottar Castle,
lying about two miles from the highway. We left the car by the roadside
and followed the footpath through the fields. The ruin stands on a high,
precipitous headland projecting far out into the ocean and cut off from
the land side by a deep, irregular ravine, and the descent and ascent of
the almost perpendicular sides was anything but an easy task. A single
winding footpath leads to the grim old gateway, and we rang the bell
many times before the custodian admitted us. Inside the gate the steep
ascent continues through a rude, tunnellike passageway, its sides for a
distance of one hundred feet or more pierced with many an embrasure for
archers or musketeers. Emerging from this we came into the castle court,
the center of the small plateau on the summit of the rock. Around us
rose the broken, straggling walls, bare and bleak, without a shred of
ivy or wall-flower to hide their grim nakedness. The place was typical
of a rude, semi-barbarous age, an age of rapine, murder and ferocious
cruelty, and its story is as terrific as one would anticipate from its
forbidding aspect.