DUNDEE

This is one of the favorite songs of Scotland.

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In the afternoon we go to the jam and marmalade factories. The air in the factory is full of the odor of berries, sugar, and oranges. What a multitude we find working in these places! All are busy, for the supply of Dundee jams is not equal to the demand from all the world.

"Where do you get your berries?" we inquire of our guide.

"Carse o' Gowrie."

"Where?"

"Carse o' Gowrie."

We learn that this is the name of a fertile region near Dundee, where wonderful berries are grown.

We ride past the busy technical school and then up the slopes behind the city. On our way, we pass many new houses, and notice that some of the streets are terraced. At last we are on Dundee Law - high above the city. Here we can see the course of the Tay for miles. Fife is spread before us like a map. Across the bay we see St. Andrews, and behind us are the Grampian Hills. Dundee itself is enterprising rather than beautiful; but our view from the Law is the finest that we have yet had in Scotland.

Early the following morning we are on our way north. We follow the coast, passing many places of interest at which we should like to stop. In less than two hours we arrive at Aberdeen, a city almost as large as Dundee. Although an ancient city (its charter was "extended" by Robert Bruce), its growth, like that of Dundee, has come largely in recent years.

In our first walk about the town, we notice that the public buildings, the houses and shops, and even the wide streets, are all made of granite. We are not sur

prised that Aberdeen is called the "Granite City." Near by, and along the coast, granite is taken from the hundreds of quarries, and shipped to all parts of the British Isles.

Not far out in the North Sea are the Fishing Banks, where the trawlers take vast quantities of fish. Long before sunrise, the next morning, we all go down to the dock to see the return of the fishermen from their labors of the night. It is a wonderful sight. Hundreds of sturdy fishermen with bronzed faces are spreading out their fish on long benches and rapidly sorting them. Next comes the packing of the catch in barrels, many of the fish at the time being still alive. A long train is waiting beside the dock, and before the sun has appeared, every barrel has been placed on board. The train at once starts on its long journey to London.

After breakfast we drive through the grounds of the university, which is one of the leading institutions of Scotland. We visit some of the great printing establishments, where many of the London publishers have their books printed. We are told that, next to Edinburgh, Aberdeen does more printing than any Scottish city.

The cattle markets greatly interest us, and we spend a part of the day in them. Behind Aberdeen, between the river Dee and the Don, are some of the best cattle pastures in the United Kingdom.

The next day we made an excursion up the valley of the Dee. We find ourselves in a region of wild, rugged hills. Soon we arrive at Balmoral Castle, where Queen Victoria spent many of her summers. From the grounds of the castle we obtain a glorious view. All about us are high hills, while lying far below are the peaceful valleys. In the distance we catch glimpses of waterfalls foaming over rocks, and swift mountain brooks that glisten like silver. On the slopes and in the valley are more herds of cattle grazing than we could begin to count.

We now decide to vary our trip by a voyage to the Orkney and Shetland Islands, lying off the northeastern extremity of Scotland. Accordingly, the following day we sail in a little steamer from Aberdeen. The captain is a typical Highlander, and his broad Scotch dialect is difficult for us to understand. He is most courteous, however, and shows us every attention. He tells us that the Strait of Pentland Firth, which divides the islands from the mainland, is only six miles wide. In the winter, its waters are so rough and wild at times that a boat cannot "live" on it.. Our first view of the Orkneys (there are sixty-seven islands in the group) shows us great, ragged cliffs, which we can well believe are, as the captain declares, the grandest in Scotland. We stop a little while

at Kirkwall, the capital, situated on Pomona, the largest island. It is only a little village, however, and we soon continue our voyage fifty miles farther north to the Shetland Isles.

We are now farther north than we have ever been before, yet the air is warm and balmy. The captain informs us that the winters in this region are also mild. Even Unst, the island farthest north, does not suffer

severely from the cold. We find that there are more than one hundred of the Shetland Islands. As we draw near the shore, we see towering cliffs which have been worn by the waves and storms into fantastic and varied forms. Multitudes of screaming sea-birds are circling about the rocks. Lerwick, the capital, where we land, is a quaint and strange little seaport town.

We are to remain only a day. The following morning we mount hardy little Shetland ponies, not much larger

SHETLAND ISLANDS

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than sheep. Strong as they are, they are almost as gentle as kittens. How we would like to take some of them home with us!

On our ponies we ride to the ruins of some ancient castles, passing across the plains behind the cliffs on the shore. To our surprise, we find fields of corn and grass. Many sheep are seen, too, and we are reminded by them of our promise to bring back some of the famous Shetland wools.

We see many women, but very few men. The men of the islands are mostly fishermen, and now are away from home. As we turn back to our hotel, we meet women

with loads of peat on their shoulders, but, strange to say, their hands are busily knitting or sewing, in spite of the heavy load.

Centuries ago, the Shetland Islands were dimly known