BLEAK and bare, flat and featureless, the county of Caithness lies apart at the far end of Scotland, separated on one side from the rest of the country by rugged mountains and girdled on the other sides by boisterous seas—an unlovely region of brown moor and black morass, partially redeemed to agriculture along the sea-board, but so swept by storm and salt-spray that trees will not grow, save in a few sheltered spots where they have been carefully screened. The solitary mountain group of Morven and the Scarabins, visible from every quarter, lies at the far southern limit of the county, where it seems rather to be part of the uplands of Sutherland, to which indeed in structure it belongs. One redeeming feature, however, can be claimed for Caithness. It is one which compensates, or even more than compensates for the genera! monotony. The coast-line is almost everywhere formed by a range of mural precipices, rising here and there to heights of 200 and even 300 feet above the waves. Huge massive quadrangular sea-stacks tower out of the water in advance of the main cliff. The sea, moreover, runs inland in innumerable deep dark clefts or “gyoes,” and is ever booming in the far recesses of caves that have been worn out of the solid rock by the chafing tides. Robert Dick, Baker of Thurso, Geologist and Botanist. By Samuel Smiles. (London: John Murray, 1878.)
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