Tall bauta stones are to be seen in several places in Caithness, to which some legend about “the Danes” is generally attached; they now stand in a leaning position, as if mourning over the departed times of the heroic age. A monument of a somewhat later period, according to tradition that of a Danish princess, who suffered shipwreck on the coast, was also formerly to be found in a churchyard near Ulbster. Danish fortifications, consisting partly of square towers, once existed along the coast, principally near the navigable inlets; but these also have now, for the most part, disappeared. With several intervals, Caithness was subject to Norwegian jarls until some time in the fourteenth century, or for about as long a period as Orkney and the Shetland Isles. After that time, however, it does not seem to have been oppressed to such a degree as those islands; which circumstance, in conjunction with the originally great number of Norwegian settlements in the country, is the cause that even in the present day we are not referred only to inanimate memorials of the ancient Norwegian population. The present living inhabitants bear a decided and unmistakable impress of their Norwegian descent. The language in the plains of Caithness, and in the open valleys, is the same dialect of the English as is spoken in Orkney and the Shetland Isles, because the transitions from Norwegian to English have been the same. The people have in some parts, as in the parish of Wick, pure Scandinavian names: Ronald (Ragnvald), Harold, Swanson (Svendsen), Manson (Magnuson), and others; and their tall and personable figures, as well as their light hair and broad faces, render them a striking contrast to the shorter and more swarthy Highlanders. As the descendants of an old Gaelic and of an old Norwegian population adjoin one another in Caithness, we have an excellent opportunity of observing, on a small scale, how the Norwegians and Danes have actually implanted in the British Isles a more seafaring spirit and greater nautical skill. Even to the present day the Gael, in Caithness, as well as throughout the Highlands, has a decided aversion to the sea, nay, a downright fear of its dangers. It is pretty well known that in general, and except on the most urgent necessity, one should not venture out into the Pentland Firth in boats steered and rowed by Gaels or Highlanders; for, in the event of a storm, all steady command is speedily lost, and gives place to anxious irresolution. The descendants of the old Norwegians, on the contrary, who are familiar with the sea from childhood, and amongst whom lies Wick, the most important fishing station in Scotland, show themselves precisely in the hour of danger the worthy sons of their forefathers, the ancient Vikings. It is only the man at the helm who speaks, and he gives his orders in a few decisive words. He is punctually obeyed, and the misfortune is said to be rare, if his