A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland. Samuel Johnson

in separate congregations supplied with ministers by the successors of the bishops who were deprived at the Revolution.

      We came to Aberdeen on Saturday August 21.  On Monday we were invited into the town-hall, where I had the freedom of the city given me by the Lord Provost.  The honour conferred had all the decorations that politeness could add, and what I am afraid I should not have had to say of any city south of the Tweed, I found no petty officer bowing for a fee.

      The parchment containing the record of admission is, with the seal appending, fastened to a riband and worn for one day by the new citizen in his hat.

      By a lady who saw us at the chapel, the Earl of Errol was informed of our arrival, and we had the honour of an invitation to his seat, called Slanes Castle, as I am told, improperly, from the castle of that name, which once stood at a place not far distant.

      The road beyond Aberdeen grew more stony, and continued equally naked of all vegetable decoration.  We travelled over a tract of ground near the sea, which, not long ago, suffered a very uncommon, and unexpected calamity.  The sand of the shore was raised by a tempest in such quantities, and carried to such a distance, that an estate was overwhelmed and lost.  Such and so hopeless was the barrenness superinduced, that the owner, when he was required to pay the usual tax, desired rather to resign the ground.

      SLANES CASTLE, THE BULLER OF BUCHAN

      We came in the afternoon to Slanes Castle, built upon the margin of the sea, so that the walls of one of the towers seem only a continuation of a perpendicular rock, the foot of which is beaten by the waves.  To walk round the house seemed impracticable.  From the windows the eye wanders over the sea that separates Scotland from Norway, and when the winds beat with violence must enjoy all the terrifick grandeur of the tempestuous ocean.  I would not for my amusement wish for a storm; but as storms, whether wished or not, will sometimes happen, I may say, without violation of humanity, that I should willingly look out upon them from Slanes Castle.

      When we were about to take our leave, our departure was prohibited by the countess till we should have seen two places upon the coast, which she rightly considered as worthy of curiosity, Dun Buy, and the Buller of Buchan, to which Mr. Boyd very kindly conducted us.

      Dun Buy, which in Erse is said to signify the Yellow Rock, is a double protuberance of stone, open to the main sea on one side, and parted from the land by a very narrow channel on the other.  It has its name and its colour from the dung of innumerable sea-fowls, which in the Spring chuse this place as convenient for incubation, and have their eggs and their young taken in great abundance.  One of the birds that frequent this rock has, as we were told, its body not larger than a duck’s, and yet lays eggs as large as those of a goose.  This bird is by the inhabitants named a Coot.  That which is called Coot in England, is here a Cooter.

      Upon these rocks there was nothing that could long detain attention, and we soon turned our eyes to the Buller, or Bouilloir of Buchan, which no man can see with indifference, who has either sense of danger or delight in rarity.  It is a rock perpendicularly tubulated, united on one side with a high shore, and on the other rising steep to a great height, above the main sea.  The top is open, from which may be seen a dark gulf of water which flows into the cavity, through a breach made in the lower part of the inclosing rock.  It has the appearance of a vast well bordered with a wall.  The edge of the Buller is not wide, and to those that walk round, appears very narrow.  He that ventures to look downward sees, that if his foot should slip, he must fall from his dreadful elevation upon stones on one side, or into water on the other.  We however went round, and were glad when the circuit was completed.

      When we came down to the sea, we saw some boats, and rowers, and resolved to explore the Buller at the bottom.  We entered the arch, which the water had made, and found ourselves in a place, which, though we could not think ourselves in danger, we could scarcely survey without some recoil of the mind.  The bason in which we floated was nearly circular, perhaps thirty yards in diameter.  We were inclosed by a natural wall, rising steep on every side to a height which produced the idea of insurmountable confinement.  The interception of all lateral light caused a dismal gloom.  Round us was a perpendicular rock, above us the distant sky, and below an unknown profundity of water.  If I had any malice against a walking spirit, instead of laying him in the Red-sea, I would condemn him to reside in the Buller of Buchan.

      But terrour without danger is only one of the sports of fancy, a voluntary agitation of the mind that is permitted no longer than it pleases.  We were soon at leisure to examine the place with minute inspection, and found many cavities which, as the waterman told us, went backward to a depth which they had never explored.  Their extent we had not time to try; they are said to serve different purposes.  Ladies come hither sometimes in the summer with collations, and smugglers make them storehouses for clandestine merchandise.  It is hardly to be doubted but the pirates of ancient times often used them as magazines of arms, or repositories of plunder.

      To the little vessels used by the northern rovers, the Buller may have served as a shelter from storms, and perhaps as a retreat from enemies; the entrance might have been stopped, or guarded with little difficulty, and though the vessels that were stationed within would have been battered with stones showered on them from above, yet the crews would have lain safe in the caverns.

      Next morning we continued our journey, pleased with our reception at Slanes Castle, of which we had now leisure to recount the grandeur and the elegance; for our way afforded us few topics of conversation.  The ground was neither uncultivated nor unfruitful; but it was still all arable.  Of flocks or herds there was no appearance.  I had now travelled two hundred miles in Scotland, and seen only one tree not younger than myself.

      BAMFF

      We dined this day at the house of Mr. Frazer of Streichton, who shewed us in his grounds some stones yet standing of a druidical circle, and what I began to think more worthy of notice, some forest trees of full growth.

      At night we came to Bamff, where I remember nothing that particularly claimed my attention.  The ancient towns of Scotland have generally an appearance unusual to Englishmen.  The houses, whether great or small, are for the most part built of stones.  Their ends are now and then next the streets, and the entrance into them is very often by a flight of steps, which reaches up to the second story, the floor which is level with the ground being entered only by stairs descending within the house.

      The art of joining squares of glass with lead is little used in Scotland, and in some places is totally forgotten.  The frames of their windows are all of wood.  They are more frugal of their glass than the English, and will often, in houses not otherwise mean, compose a square of two pieces, not joining like cracked glass, but with one edge laid perhaps half an inch over the other.  Their windows do not move upon hinges, but are pushed up and drawn down in grooves, yet they are seldom accommodated with weights and pullies.  He that would have his window open must hold it with his hand, unless what may be sometimes found among good contrivers, there be a nail which he may stick into a hole, to keep it from falling.

      What cannot be done without some uncommon trouble or particular expedient, will not often be done at all.  The incommodiousness of the Scotch windows keeps them very closely shut.  The necessity of ventilating human habitations has not yet been found by our northern neighbours; and even in houses well built and elegantly furnished, a stranger may be sometimes forgiven, if he allows himself to wish for fresher air.

      These diminutive observations seem to take away something from the dignity of writing, and therefore are never communicated but with hesitation, and a little fear of abasement and contempt.  But it must be remembered, that life consists not of a series of illustrious actions, or elegant enjoyments; the greater part of our time passes in compliance with necessities, in the performance of daily duties, in the removal of small inconveniences, in the procurement of petty pleasures; and we are well or ill at ease, as the main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is ruffled by small obstacles and frequent interruption.  The true state of every nation is the state of common life.  The manners of a people are not to be found in the schools of learning, or the palaces of greatness, where the national character is obscured or obliterated by travel or instruction, by philosophy or vanity; nor is public happiness to be estimated by the assemblies of the gay,