proud of their Union Street, the main thoroughfare, as well they might
be, for though at first sight we thought it had rather a sombre
appearance, yet when the sky cleared and the sun shone out on the golden
letters that adorned the buildings we altered our opinion, for then we
saw the "Granite City" at its best.

We spent the time rambling along the beach, and, as pleasure seekers
generally do, passed the day comfortably, looking at anything and
everything that came in our way. By no means sea-faring men, having
mainly been accustomed to village life, we had some misgivings when we
boarded the s.s. _St. Magnus_ at eight o'clock in the evening, and our
sensations during the night were such as are common to what the sailors
call "land-lubbers." We were fortunate, however, in forming the
acquaintance of a lively young Scot, who was also bound for Wick, and
who cheered us during the night by giving us copious selections from
Scotland's favourite bard, of whom he was greatly enamoured. We heard
more of "Rabbie Burns" that night than we had ever heard before, for our
friend seemed able to recite his poetry by the yard and to sing some of
it also, and he kept us awake by occasionally asking us to join in the
choruses. Some of the sentiments of Burns expressed ideals that seem a
long time in being realised, and one of his favourite quotations,
repeated several times by our friend, dwells in our memory after many
years:

For a' that an' a' that
It's coming, yet, for a' that,
That man to man the war-ld o'er
Shall brithers be for a' that.

During the night, as the _St. Magnus_ ploughed her way through the