was at Johnny Groat's I got a shell
for dear Hen, which I hope I shall be able to bring or send to
her. I am glad to hear that you have got out the money on
mortgage so satisfactorily. One of the greatest blessings in
this world is to be independent. My spirits of late have been
rather bad, owing principally to my dear mother's death. I
always knew that we should miss her. I dreamt about her at Fort
Augustus. Though I have walked so much I have suffered very
little from fatigue, and have got over the ground with
surprising facility, but I have not enjoyed the country so much
as Wales. I wish that you would order a hat for me against I
come home; the one I am wearing is very shabby, having been so
frequently drenched with rain and storm-beaten. I cannot say
the exact day that I shall be home, but you may be expecting
me. The worst is that there is no depending on the steamers,
for there is scarcely any traffic in Scotland in winter. My
appetite of late has been very poorly, chiefly, I believe,
owing to badness of food and want of regular meals. Glad
enough, I repeat, shall I be to get home to you and Hen.

GEORGE BORROW.

Kirkwall, Orkney, _November 27th, 1858. Saturday._

DEAR CARRETA,--I am, as you see, in Orkney, and I expect every
minute the steamer which will take me to Shetland and Aberdeen,
from which last place I go by train to Inverness, where my
things are, and thence home. I had a stormy passage to
Stromness, from whence I took a boat to the Isle of Hoy, where
I saw the wonderful Dwarf's House hollowed out of the stone.
From Stromness I walked here. I have seen the old Norwegian
Cathedral; it is of red sandstone, and looks as if cut out of
rock. It is different from almost everything of the kind I ever
saw. It is stern and grand to a degree. I have also seen the
ruins of the old Norwegian Bishop's palace in which King Hacon
died; also the ruins of the palace of Patrick, Earl of Orkney.
I have been treated here with every kindness and civility. As
soon as the people knew who I was they could scarcely make
enough of me. The Sheriff, Mr. Robertson, a great Gaelic
scholar, said he was proud to see me in his house; and a young
gentleman of the name of Petrie, Clerk of Supply, has done
nothing but go a