wailing and of fury, so mingled with the deep, heavy roll of the lashing
waves, that it was impossible to distinguish the roar of the one element
from the howl of the other. Neither tree, hill, nor wood intercepted the
rushing gale, to change the dull monotony of its gloomy tone. The Ythan,
indeed, darted by, swollen and turbid from continued storms, threatening
to overflow the barren plain it watered, but its voice was
undistinguishable amidst the louder wail of wind and ocean. Pine-trees,
dark, ragged, and stunted, and scattered so widely apart that each one
seemed monarch of some thirty acres, were the only traces of vegetation
for miles round. Nor were human habitations more abundant; indeed, few
dwellings, save those of such solid masonry as the Tower of Buchan,
could hope to stand scathless amidst the storms that in winter ever
swept along the moor.

No architectural beauty distinguished the residence of the Earls of
Buchan; none of that tasteful decoration peculiar to the Saxon, nor of
the more sombre yet more imposing style introduced by the Norman, and
known as the Gothic architecture.

Originally a hunting-lodge, it had been continually enlarged by
succeeding lords, without any regard either to symmetry or proportion,
elegance or convenience; and now, early in the year 1306, appeared
within its outer walls as a most heterogeneous mass of ill-shaped
turrets, courts, offices, and galleries, huddled together in ill-sorted
confusion, though presenting to the distant view a massive square
building, remarkable only for a strength and solidity capable of
resisting alike the war of elements and of man.

Without all seemed a dreary wilderness, but within existed indisputable
signs of active life. The warlike inhabitants of the tower, though