should never again find my books and things.  I, however, got them, and my old umbrella, too.  I was sent on by the mail train, but lost four hours, besides undergoing a great deal of misery and excitement.

When I have been to Thurso and Kirkwall I shall return as quick as possible, and shall be glad to get out of the country.  As I am here, however, I wish to see all I can, for I never wish to return.  Whilst in Mull I lived very cheaply—it is not costing me more than seven shillings a day.  The generality of the inns, however, in the lowlands are incredibly dear—half-a-crown for breakfast, consisting of a little tea, a couple of small eggs, and bread and butter—two shillings for attendance.  Tell Hen that I have some moss for her from Benmore—also some seaweed from the farther shore of Icolmrill.  God bless you,

George Borrow.

Letter X.

Thurso,
November 21st, [1858].

My dear Carreta,

I reached this place on Friday night, and was glad enough to get your kind letter.  I shall be so glad to get home to you.

Since my last letter to you I have walked nearly 160 miles.  I was terribly taken in with respect to distances—however, I managed to make my way.  I have been to Johnny Groat’s House, which is about twenty-two miles from this place.  I had tolerably fine weather all the way, but within two or three miles of that place a terrible storm arose; the next day the country was covered with ice and snow.  There is at present here a kind of Greenland winter, colder almost than I ever knew the winter in Russia. 

The streets are so covered with ice that it is dangerous to step out.  To-morrow D. and I pass over into Orkney, and we shall take the first steamer to Aberdeen and Inverness, from whence I shall make the best of my way to England.  It is well that I have no farther to walk, for walking now is almost impossible—the last twenty miles were terrible, and the weather is worse than it was then.  I was terribly deceived with respect to steamboats.  I was told that one passed over to Orkney every day, and I have now been waiting two days, and there is not yet one.  I have had quite enough of Scotland.  When I 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.