_November_ 27_th_, _Saturday_ [1858].

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 about with me to
show me the wonders of the place. Mr. Robertson wished to give me
letters to some gentleman at Edinburgh. I, however, begged leave to be
excused, saying that I wished to get home, as, indeed, I do, for my mind
is wearied by seeing so many strange places. On my way to Kirkwall I saw
the stones of Stennis--immense blocks of stone standing up like those of
Salisbury Plain. All the country is full of Druidical and Pictish
remains. It is, however, very barren, and scarcely a tree is to be seen,
only a few dwarf ones. Orkney consists of a multitude of small islands,
the principal of which is Pomona, in which Kirkwall is. The currents
between them are terrible.

I hope to be home a few days after you receive these lines, either by
rail or steamer. This is a fine day, but there has been dreadful weather
here. I hope we shall have a prosperous passage. I have purchased a
little Kirkwall newspaper, which I send you with this letter. I shall
perhaps post both at Lerwick or Aberdeen. I sent you a Johnny Groat's
newspaper, which I hope you got. Don't tear either up, for they are
curious.

God bless you and Hen.
GEORGE BORROW.

LETTER XII.