Chapter XXIX: In Scotland and Ireland

Borrow has himself given us--in _Lavengro_--a picturesque record of his early experiences in Scotland. It is passing strange that he published no account of his two visits to the North in maturer years. Why did he not write _Wild Scotland_ as a companion volume to _Wild Wales_? He preserved in little leather pocket-books or leather-covered exercise-books copious notes of both tours. Two of his notebooks came into the possession of the late Dr. Knapp, Borrow's first biographer, and are thus described in his Bibliography:

_Note Book of a Tour in Scotland, the Orkneys and Shetland in
Oct. and Dec. 1858._ 1 large vol. leather.

_Note Book of Tours around Belfast and the Scottish Borders
from Stranraer to Berwick-upon-Tweed in July and August 1866._
1 vol. leather.

Of these Dr. Knapp made use only to give the routes of Borrow's journeys so far as he was able to interpret them. It may be that he was doubtful as to whether his purchase of the manuscript carried with it the copyright of its contents, as it assuredly did not; it may be that he quailed before the minute and almost undecipherable handwriting. But similar notebooks are in my possession, and there are, happily, in these days typists--you pay them by the hour, and it means an infinity of time and patience--who will copy the most minute and the most obscure documents. There are some of the notebooks of the Scottish tour of 1858 before me, and what is of far more importance--Borrow's letters to his wife while on this tour. Borrow lost his mother in August 1858, and this event was naturally a great blow to his heart. A week or two later he suffered a cruel blow to his pride also, nothing less than the return of the manuscript of his much-prized translation from the Welsh of _The Sleeping Bard_--and this by his 'prince of publishers,' John Murray. 'There is no money in it,' said the publisher, and he was doubtless right.[193] The two disasters were of different character, but both unhinged him. He had already written _Wild Wales_, although it was not to be published for another four years. He had caused to be advertised--in 1857--a book on Cornwall, but it was never written in any definitive form, and now our author had lost heart, and the Cornish book--_Penquite and Pentyre_--and the Scots book never saw the light. In these autumn months of 1858 geniality and humour had parted from Borrow; this his diary makes clear. He was ill. His wife urged a tour in Scotland, and he prepared himself for a rough, simple journey, of a kind quite different from the one in Wales. The north of Scotland in the winter was scarcely to be thought of for his wife and stepdaughter Henrietta. He tells us in one of these diaries that he walked 'several hundred miles in the Highlands.' His wife and daughter were with him in Wales, as every reader of _Wild Wales_ will recall, but the Scots tour was meant to be a more formidable pilgrimage, and they went to Great Yarmouth instead. The first half of the tour--that of September--is dealt with in letters to his wife, the latter half is reflected in his diary. The letters show Borrow's experiences in the earlier part of his journey, and from his diaries we learn that he was in Oban on 22nd October, Aberdeen on 5th November, Inverness on the 9th, and thence he went to Tain, Dornoch, Wick, John o'Groat's, and to the island towns, Stromness, Kirkwall, and Lerwick. He was in Shetland on the 1st of December--altogether a bleak, cheerless journey, we may believe, even for so hardy a tramp as Borrow, and the tone of the following extract from one of his rough notebooks in my possession may perhaps be explained by the circumstance. Borrow is on the way to Loch Laggan and visits a desolate churchyard, Coll Harrie, to see the tomb of John Macdonnel or Ian Lom:

I was on a Highland hill in an old Popish burying-ground. I
entered the ruined church, disturbed a rabbit crouching under
an old tombstone--it ran into a hole, then came out running
about like wild--quite frightened--made room for it to run out
by the doorway, telling it I would not hurt it--went out again
and examined the tombs.... Would have examined much more but
the wind and rain blew horribly, and I was afraid that my hat,
if not my head, would be blown into the road over the hill.
Quitted the place of old Highland Popish devotion--descended
the hill again with great difficulty--grass slippery and the
ground here and there quaggy, resumed the road--village--went
to the door of house looking down the valley--to ask its
name--knock--people came out, a whole family, looking sullen
and all savage. The stout, tall young man with the grey savage
eyes--civil questions--half-savage answers--village's name
Achaluarach--the neighbourhood--all Catholic--chiefly
Macdonnels; said the English, _my countrymen_, had taken the
whole country--'but not without paying for it,' I replied--said
I was soaking wet with a kind of sneer, but never asked me in.
I said I cared not for wet. A savage, brutal Papist and a hater
of the English--the whole family with bad countenances--a tall
woman in the background probably the mother of them all. Bade
him good-day, he made no answer and I went away. Learnt that
the river's name was Spean.

He passed through Scotland in a disputative vein, which could not have made him a popular traveller. He tells a Roman Catholic of the Macdonnel clan to read his Bible and 'trust in Christ, not in the Virgin Mary and graven images.' He went up to another man who accosted him with the remark that 'It is a soft day,' and said, 'You should not say a "soft" day, but a wet day.' Even the Spanish, for whom he had so much contempt and scorn when he returned from the Peninsula, are 'in many things a wise people'--after his experiences of the Scots. There is abundance of Borrow's prejudice, intolerance, and charm in this fragment of a diary[194]; but the extract I have given is of additional interest as showing how Borrow wrote all his books. The notebooks that he wrote in Spain and Wales were made up of similar disjointed jottings. Here is a note of more human character interspersed with Borrow's diatribes upon the surliness of the Scots. He is at Invergarry, on the Banks of Loch Oich. It is the 5th of October:

Dinner of real haggis; meet a conceited schoolmaster. This
night, or rather in the early morning, I saw in the dream of my
sleep my dear departed mother--she appeared to be coming out of
her little sleeping-room at Oulton Hall--overjoyed I gave a
cry and fell down at her knee, but my agitation was so great
that it burst the bonds of sleep, and I awoke.

But the letters to Mrs. Borrow are the essential documents here, and not the copious diaries which I hope to publish elsewhere. The first letter to 'Carreta' is from Edinburgh, where Borrow arrived on Sunday, 19th September 1858:

To Mrs. George Borrow, 38 Camperdown Place, Yarmouth, Norfolk

EDINBURGH, _Sunday (Sept. 19th, 1858)._

DEAR CARRETA,--I just write a line to inform you that I arrived here yesterday quite safe. We did not start from Yarmouth till past three o'clock on Thursday morning; we reached Newcastle about ten on Friday. As I was walking in the street at Newcastle a sailor-like man came running up to me, and begged that I would let him speak to me. He appeared almost wild with joy. I asked him who he was, and he told me he was a Yarmouth north beach man, and that he knew me very well. Before I could answer, another sailor-like, short, thick fellow came running up, who also seemed wild with joy; he was a comrade of the other. I never saw two people so out of themselves with pleasure, they literally danced in the street; in fact, they were two of my old friends. I asked them how they came down there, and they told me that they had been down fishing. They begged a thousand pardons for speaking to me, but told me they could not help it. I set off for Alnwick on Friday afternoon, stayed there all night, and saw the castle next morning. It is a fine old place, but at present is undergoing repairs--a Scottish king was killed before its walls in the old time. At about twelve I started for Edinburgh. The place is wonderfully altered since I was here, and I don't think for the better. There is a Runic stone on the castle brae which I am going to copy. It was not there in my time. If you write direct to me at the Post Office, Inverness. I am thinking of going to Glasgow to-morrow, from which place I shall start for Inverness by one of the packets which go thither by the North-West and the Caledonian Canal. I hope that you and Hen are well and comfortable. Pray eat plenty of grapes and partridges. We had upon the whole a pleasant passage from Yarmouth; we lived plainly but well, and I was not at all ill--the captain seemed a kind, honest creature. Remember me kindly to Mrs. Turnour and Mrs. Clarke, and God bless you and Hen.

GEORGE BORROW.

In his unpublished diary Borrow records his journey from Glasgow through beautiful but over-described scenery to Inverness, where he stayed at the Caledonian Hotel:

To Mrs. George Borrow, 38 Camperdown Place, Yarmouth

INVERNESS, _Sunday (Sept. 26th)._

DEAR CARRETA,--This is the third letter which I have written to you. Whether you have received the other two, or will receive this, I am doubtful. I have been several times to the post office, but we found no letter from you, though I expected to find one awaiting me when I arrived. I wrote last on Friday. I merely want to know once how you are, and if all is well I shall move onward. It is of not much use staying here. After I had written to you on Friday I crossed by the ferry over the Firth and walked to Beauly, and from thence to Beaufort or Castle Downie; at Beauly I saw the gate of the pit where old Fraser used to put the people whom he owed money to--it is in the old ruined cathedral, and at Beaufort saw the ruins of the house where he was born. Lord Lovat lives in the house close by. There is now a claimant to the title, a descendant of old Fraser's elder brother who committed a murder in the year 1690, and on that account fled to South Wales. The present family are rather uneasy, and so are their friends, of whom they have a great number, for though they are flaming Papists they are very free of their money. I have told several of their cousins that the claimant has not a chance as the present family have been so long in possession. They almost blessed me for saying so. There, however, can be very little doubt that the title and estate, more than a million acres, belong to the claimant by strict law. Old Fraser's brother was called Black John of the Tasser. The man whom he killed was a piper who sang an insulting song to him at a wedding. I have heard the words and have translated them; he was dressed very finely, and the piper sang:

'You're dressed in Highland robes, O John,
But ropes of straw would become ye better;
You've silver buckles your shoes upon
But leather thongs for them were fitter.'

Whereupon John drew his dagger and ran it into the piper's
belly; the descendants of the piper are still living at Beauly.
I walked that day thirty-four miles between noon and ten
o'clock at night. My letter of credit is here. This is a dear
place, but not so bad as Edinburgh. _If you have written_,
don't write any more till you hear from me again. God bless you
and Hen.

GEORGE BORROW.

'Swindled out of a shilling by rascally ferryman,' is Borrow's note in his diary of the episode that he relates to his wife of crossing the Firth. He does not tell her, but his diary tells us, that he changed his inn on the day he wrote this letter: the following jottings from the diary cover the period:

_Sept. 29th._--Quit the 'Caledonian' for 'Union Sun'--poor
accommodation--could scarcely get anything to eat--unpleasant
day. Walked by the river--at night saw the comet again from the
bridge.

_Sept. 30th._--Breakfast. The stout gentleman from Caithness,
Mr. John Miller, gave me his card--show him mine--his delight.

_Oct. 1st._--Left Inverness for Fort Augustus by
steamer--passengers--strange man--tall gentleman--half
doctor--breakfast--dreadful hurricane of wind and rain--reach
Fort Augustus--inn--apartments--Edinburgh ale--stroll over the
bridge to a wretched village--wind and rain--return--fall
asleep before fire--dinner--herrings, first-rate--black ale,
Highland mutton--pudding and cream--stroll round the fort--wet
grass--stormy-like--wind and rain--return--kitchen--kind,
intelligent woman from Dornoch--no Gaelic--shows me a Gaelic
book of spiritual songs by one Robertson--talks to me about
Alexander Cumming, a fat blacksmith and great singer of Gaelic
songs.

But to return to Borrow's letters to his wife:

To Mrs. George Borrow, 38 Camperdown Terrace, Gt. Yarmouth

INVERNESS, _September 29th, 1858._

MY DEAR CARRETA,--I have got your letter, and glad enough I was
to get it. The day after to-morrow I shall depart from here for
Fort Augustus at some distance up the lake. After staying a few
days there, I am thinking of going to the Isle of Mull, but I
will write to you if possible from Fort Augustus. I am rather
sorry that I came to Scotland--I was never in such a place in
my life for cheating and imposition, and the farther north you
go the worse things seem to be, and yet I believe it is
possible to live very cheap here, that is if you have a house
of your own and a wife to go out and make bargains, for things
are abundant enough, but if you move about you are at the mercy
of innkeepers and suchlike people. The other day I was swindled
out of a shilling by a villain to whom I had given it for
change. I ought, perhaps, to have had him up before a
magistrate provided I could have found one, but I was in a wild
place and he had a clan about him, and if I had had him up I
have no doubt I should have been outsworn. I, however, have met
one fine, noble old fellow. The other night I lost my way
amongst horrible moors and wandered for miles and miles without
seeing a soul. At last I saw a light which came from the window
of a rude hovel. I tapped at the window and shouted, and at
last an old man came out; he asked me what I wanted, and I told
him I had lost my way. He asked me where I came from and where
I wanted to go, and on my telling him he said I had indeed lost
my way, for I had got out of it at least four miles, and was
going away from the place I wanted to get to. He then said he
would show me the way, and went with me for several miles over
most horrible places. At last we came to a road where he said
he thought he might leave me, and wished me good-night. I gave
him a shilling. He was very grateful and said, after
considering, that as I had behaved so handsomely to him he
would not leave me yet, as he thought it possible I might yet
lose my way. He then went with me three miles farther, and I
have no doubt that, but for him, I should have lost my way
again, the roads were so tangled. I never saw such an old
fellow, or one whose conversation was so odd and entertaining.
This happened last Monday night, the night of the day in which
I had been swindled of the shilling by the other; I could write
a history about those two shillings.

To Mrs. George Borrow, 39 Camperdown Terrace, Gt. Yarmouth

INVERNESS, _30th September 1858._

DEAR CARRETA,--I write another line to tell you that I have got
your second letter--it came just in time, as I leave to-morrow.
In your next, address to George Borrow, Post Office, Tobermory,
Isle of Mull, Scotland. You had, however, better write without
delay, as I don't know how long I may be there; and be sure
only to write once. I am glad we have got such a desirable
tenant for our Maltings, and should be happy to hear that the
cottage was also let so well. However, let us be grateful for
what has been accomplished. I hope you wrote to Cooke as I
desired you, and likewise said something about how I had waited
for Murray.... I met to-day a very fat gentleman from
Caithness, at the very north of Scotland; he said he was
descended from the Norse. I talked to him about them, and he
was so pleased with my conversation that he gave me his card,
and begged that I would visit him if I went there. As I could
do no less, I showed him my card--I had but one--and he no
sooner saw the name than he was in a rapture. I am rather glad
that you have got the next door, as the locality is highly
respectable. Tell Hen that I copied the Runic stone on the
Castle Hill, Edinburgh. It was brought from Denmark in the old
time. The inscription is imperfect, but I can read enough of
it to see that it was erected by a man to his father and
mother. I again write the direction for your next: George
Borrow, Esq., Post Office, Tobermory, Isle of Mull, Scotland.
God bless you and Hen. Ever yours,

GEORGE BORROW.

To Mrs. George Borrow, 39 Camperdown Terrace, Gt. Yarmouth

FORT AUGUSTUS, _Sunday, October 17th, 1858._

DEAR CARRETA,--I write a line lest you should be uneasy. Before
leaving the Highlands I thought I would see a little more about
me. So last week I set on a four days' task, a walk of a
hundred miles. I returned here late last Thursday night. I
walked that day forty-five miles; during the first twenty the
rain poured in torrents and the wind blew in my face. The last
seventeen miles were in the dark. To-morrow I proceed towards
Mull. I hope that you got my letters, and that I shall find
something from you awaiting me at the post office. The first
day I passed over Corryarrick, a mountain 3000 feet high. I was
nearly up to my middle in snow. As soon as I had passed it I
was in Badenoch. The road on the farther side was horrible, and
I was obliged to wade several rivulets, one of which was very
boisterous and nearly threw me down.[195] I wandered through a
wonderful country, and picked up a great many strange legends
from the people I met, but they were very few, the country
being almost a desert, chiefly inhabited by deer. When amidst
the lower mountains I frequently heard them blaring in the
woods above me. The people at the inn here are by far the
nicest I have met; they are kind and honourable to a degree.
God bless you and Hen.

GEORGE BORROW.

To Mrs. George Borrow, 39 Camperdown Terrace, Yarmouth

(Fragment? undated.)

On Tuesday I am going through the whole of it to Icolmkill--I
should start to-morrow--but I must get my shoes new soles, for
they have been torn to pieces by the roads, and likewise some
of my things mended, for they are in a sad condition.

I shall return from Thurso to Inverness, as I shall want some
more money to bring me home. So pray do not let the credit be
withdrawn. What a blessing it is to have money, but how
cautious people ought to be not to waste it. Pray remember me
most kindly to our good friend Mr. Hills. Send the Harveys the
pheasant as usual with my kind regards. I think you should
write to Mr. Dalton of Bury telling him that I have been
unwell, and that I send my kind regards and respects to him. I
send dear Hen a paper in company with this, in which I have
enclosed specimens of the heather, the moss and the fern, or
'raineach,' of Mull.--God bless you both,

GEORGE BORROW.

Do not delay in sending the order. Write at the same time
telling me how you are.

To Mrs. George Borrow, 39 Camperdown Terrace, Yarmouth, Norfolk

INVERNESS, _Nov. 7th, 1858._

DEAR CARRETA,--After I wrote to you I walked round Mull and
through it, over Benmore. I likewise went to Icolmkill, and
passed twenty-four hours there. I saw the wonderful ruin and
crossed the island. I suffered a great deal from hunger, but
what I saw amply repaid me; on my return to Tobermory I was
rather unwell, but got better. I was disappointed in a passage
to Thurso by sea, so I was obliged to return to this place by
train.[196] On Tuesday, D. V., I shall set out on foot, and
hope to find your letter awaiting me at the post office at
Thurso. On coming hither by train I nearly lost my things. I
was told at Huntly that the train stopped ten minutes, and
meanwhile the train drove off _purposely_; I telegraphed to
Keith in order that my things might be secured, describing
where they were, under the seat. The reply was that there was
nothing of the kind there. I instantly said that I would bring
an action against the company, and walked off to the town,
where I stated the facts to a magistrate, and gave him my name
and address. He advised me to bring my action. I went back and
found the people frightened. They telegraphed again--and the
reply was that the things were safe. There is nothing like
setting oneself up sometimes. I was terribly afraid I 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
Icolmkill. God bless you.

GEORGE BORROW.

I do not possess any diaries or notebooks covering the period of the following letters. The diary which covers this period is mentioned in the bibliography attached to Dr. Knapp's _Life of Borrow_, which, with the rest of Dr. Knapp's Borrow papers, is now in the possession of the Hispanic Society, New York.

THURSO, _21st Nov. 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 now 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.

Kirkwall, Orkney, _November 27th, 1858. Saturday._

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.

STIRLING, _Dec. 14th, 1858._

DEAR CARRETA,--I write a line to tell you that I am well and
that I am on my way to England, but I am stopped here for a
day, for there is no conveyance. Wherever I can walk I get on
very well--but if you depend on coaches or any means of
conveyance in this country you are sure to be disappointed.
This place is but thirty-five miles from Edinburgh, yet I am
detained for a day--there is no train. The waste of that day
will prevent me getting to Yarmouth from Hull by the steamer.
Were it not for my baggage I would walk to Edinburgh. I got to
Aberdeen, where I posted a letter for you. I was then obliged
to return to Inverness for my luggage--125 miles. Rather than
return again to Aberdeen, I sent on my things to Dunkeld and
walked the 102 miles through the Highlands. When I got here I
walked to Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine, thirty-eight miles over
horrible roads. I then got back here. I have now seen the whole
of Scotland that is worth seeing, and have walked 600 miles. I
shall be glad to be out of the country; a person here must
depend entirely upon himself and his own legs. I have not spent
much money--my expenses during my wanderings averaged a
shilling a day. As I was walking through Strathspey, singularly
enough I met two or three of the Phillips. I did not know them,
but a child came running after me to ask me my name. It was
Miss P. and two of the children. I hope to get to you in two or
three days after you get this. God bless you and dear Hen.

GEORGE BORROW.

In spite of Borrow's vow never to visit Scotland again, he was there eight years later--in 1866--but only in the lowlands. His stepdaughter, Hen., or Henrietta Clarke, had married Dr. MacOubrey, of Belfast, and Borrow and his wife went on a visit to the pair. But the incorrigible vagabond in Borrow was forced to declare itself, and leaving his wife and daughter in Belfast he crossed to Stranraer by steamer on 17th July 1866, and tramped through the lowlands, visiting Ecclefechan and Gretna Green. We have no record of his experiences at these places. The only literary impression of the Scots tour of 1866, apart from a brief reference in Dr. Knapp's _Life_, is an essay on Kirk Yetholm in _Romano Lavo-Lil_. We would gladly have exchanged it for an account of his visits to Abbotsford and Melrose, two places which he saw in August of this year.

In his letter of 27th November from Kirkwall it will be seen that Borrow records the kindness received from 'a young gentleman of the name of Petrie.' It is pleasant to find that when he returned to England he did not forget that kindness, as the next letter demonstrates:

To George Petrie, Esq., Kirkwall

39 CAMPERDOWN PLACE, YARMOUTH, _Jany. 14, 1859._

MY DEAR SIR,--Some weeks ago I wrote to Mr. Murray (and)
requested him to transmit to you two works of mine. Should you
not have received them by the time this note reaches you, pray
inform me and I will write to him again. They may have come
already, but whenever they may come to hand, keep them in
remembrance of one who will never forget your kind attention to
him in Orkney.

On reaching Aberdeen I went to Inverness by rail. From there I
sent off my luggage to Dunkeld, and walked thither by the
Highland road. I never enjoyed a walk more--the weather was
tolerably fine, and I was amidst some of the finest scenery in
the world. I was particularly struck with that of Glen Truim.
Near the top of the valley in sight of the Craig of Badenoch on
the left hand side of the way, I saw an immense cairn, probably
the memorial of some bloody clan battle. On my journey I picked
up from the mouth of an old Highland woman a most remarkable
tale concerning the death of Fian or Fingal. It differs
entirely from the Irish legends which I have heard on the
subject--and is of a truly mythic character. Since visiting
Shetland I have thought a great deal about the Picts, but
cannot come to any satisfactory conclusion. Were they Celts?
were they Laps? Macbeth could hardly have been a Lap, but then
the tradition of the country that they were a diminutive race,
and their name Pight or Pict, which I almost think is the same
as petit--pixolo--puj--pigmy. It is a truly perplexing
subject--quite as much so as that of Fingal, and whether he
was a Scotsman or an Irishman I have never been able to decide,
as there has been so much to be said on both sides of the
question. Please present my kind remembrances to Mrs. Petrie
and all friends, particularly Mr. Sheriff Robertson,[197] who
first did me the favour of making me acquainted with you.--And
believe me to remain, dear Sir, ever sincerely yours,

GEORGE BORROW.

Thank you for the newspaper--the notice was very kind, but
rather too flattering.

On the same day that Borrow wrote, Mr. Petrie sent his acknowledgment of the books, and so the letters crossed:

I was very agreeably surprised on opening a packet, which came
to me per steamer ten days ago, to find that it contained a
present from you of your highly interesting and valuable works
_Lavengro_ and _Romany Rye_. Coming from any person such books
would have been highly prized by me, and it is therefore
specially gratifying to have them presented to me by their
author. Please to accept of my sincere and heartfelt thanks for
your kind remembrance of me and your valuable gift. May I
request you to confer an additional favour on me by sending me
a slip of paper to be pasted on each of the five volumes,
stating that they were presented to me by you. I would like to
hand them down as an heirloom to my family. I am afraid you
will think that I am a very troublesome acquaintance.

I would have written sooner, but I expected to have had some
information to give you about some of the existing
superstitions of Orkney which might perhaps have some interest
for you. I have, however, been much engrossed with county
business during the last fortnight, and must therefore reserve
my account of these matters till another opportunity.

Mr. Balfour, our principal landowner in Orkney, is just now
writing an article on the ancient laws and customs of the
county to be prefixed to a miscellaneous collection of
documents, chiefly of the sixteenth century. He is taking the
opportunity to give an account of the nature of the tenures by
which the ancient Jarls held the Jarldom, and the manner in
which the odalret became gradually supplanted. I have furnished
him with several of the documents, and am just now going over
it with him. It is for the Bannatyne Club in Edinburgh that he
is preparing it, but I have suggested to him to have it printed
for general sale, as it is very interesting, and contains a
great mass of curious information condensed into a
comparatively small space. Mr. Balfour is very sorry that he
had not the pleasure of meeting you when you were here.

My last glimpse of George Borrow in Scotland during his memorable trip of the winter of 1858 is contained in a letter that I received some time ago from the Rev. J. Wilcock of St. Ringan's Manse, Lerwick, which runs as follows:

_Nov. 18th, 1903._

DEAR SIR,--As I see that you are interested in George Borrow,
would you allow me to supply you with a little notice of him
which has not appeared in print? A friend here--need I explain
that this is written from the capital of the Shetlands?--a
friend, I say, now dead, told me that one day early in the
forenoon, during the winter, he had walked out from the town
for a stroll into the country. About a mile out from the town
is a piece of water called the Loch of Clickimin, on a
peninsula, in which is an ancient (so-called) 'Pictish Castle.'
His attention was attracted by a tall, burly stranger, who was
surveying this ancient relic with deep interest. As the water
of the loch was well up about the castle, converting the plot
of ground on which it stood almost altogether into an island,
the stranger took off shoes and stockings and trousers, and
waded all round the building in order to get a thorough view of
it. This procedure was all the more remarkable from the fact,
as above mentioned, that the season was winter. I believe that
there was snow on the ground at the time. My friend noticed on
meeting him again in the course of the same walk that he was
very lightly clothed. He had on a cotton shirt, a loose open
jacket, and on the whole was evidently indifferent to the
rigour of our northern climate at that time of the year.

In addition to the visit to Belfast in 1866, Borrow was in Ireland the year following his Scots tour of 1858, that is to say from July to November 1859. He went, accompanied by his wife and daughter, by Holyhead to Dublin, where, as Dr. Knapp has discovered, they resided at 75 St. Stephen Green, South. Borrow, as was his custom, left his family while he was on a walking tour which included Connemara and on northward to the Giant's Causeway. He was keenly interested in the two Societies in Dublin engaged upon the study of ancient Irish literature, and he became a member of the Ossianic Society in July of this year. I have a number of Borrow's translations from the Irish in my possession, but no notebooks of his tour on this occasion.

All Irishmen who wish their country to preserve its individuality should have a kindly feeling for George Borrow. Opposed as he was to the majority of the people in religion and in politics, he was about the only Englishman of his time who took an interest in their national literature, language and folk-lore. Had he written such another travel book about Ireland as he wrote about Wales he would certainly have added to the sum of human pleasure.

I find only one letter to his wife during this Irish journey:

To Mrs. George Borrow

BALLINA, COUNTY MAYO, _Thursday Morning._

MY DEAR CARRETA,--I write to you a few lines. I have now walked
270 miles, and have passed through Leinster and Connaught. I
have suffered a good deal of hardship, for this is a very
different country to walk in from England. The food is bad and
does not agree with me. I shall be glad to get back, but first
of all I wish to walk to the Causeway. As soon as I have done
that I shall get on railroad and return, as I find there is a
railroad from Londonderry to Dublin. Pray direct to me at Post
Office, Londonderry. I have at present about seven pounds
remaining, perhaps it would bring me back to Dublin; however,
to prevent accidents, have the kindness to enclose me an order
on the Post Office, Londonderry, for five pounds. I expect to
be there next Monday, and to be home by the end of the week.
Glad enough I shall be to get back to you and Hen. I got your
letter at Galway. What you said about poor Flora was
comforting--pray take care of her. Don't forget the order. I
hope to write in a day or two a kind of duplicate of this. I
send Hen. heath from Connemara, and also seaweed from a bay of
the Atlantic. I have walked across Ireland; the country people
are civil; but I believe all classes are disposed to join the
French. The idolatry and popery are beyond conception. God
bless you, dearest.

GEORGE BORROW.

Love to Hen. and poor Flora. (Keep this.)

FOOTNOTES:

[193] Borrow had _The Sleeping Bard_ printed at his own expense in Great Yarmouth in 1860, Mr. Murray giving his imprint on the title-page. See