HALKO’S HEAD. A SEVENTEEN hours’ journey conveyed Mr. Mayfield and his nephew to the granite city of Aberdeen, with only a quarter of an hour’s pause at Carlisle, where the travellers were turned out upon the platform at the chillest hour ’twixt night and morning, and tantalized by the sight of blazing fires in a luxurious waiting-room. The travellers arrived at Aberdeen at noon, and devoted the remainder of that day and the next to the exploration of the city, dismantled cathedral, and sparse relics of the old town; the narrow street where, over a grocer’s shop, still exist the rooms once inhabited by the boy Byron and his mother. They made an excursion to the old bridge of Don--an easy walk from the city--and loitered there for some time, leaning on “Balgounie’s brig’s black wall,” and talking of the poet whose one line has made it famous. To Eustace every hour’s delay was painful. He longed to push on to that remote point of the shire where Halko’s stormy headland showed grim and gray against the broad blue sea. They had made all inquiries about this culminating point of their journey, and had been informed that Halko’s Head was a very wild place, where there were but just a few fishermen’s cottages, but where folks sometimes went in the summer for fishing and such-like. Railroad to Halko’s Head there was none; but the rail would convey them about two-thirds of the way, and thence they could doubtless obtain some mode of conveyance. “We can walk, if need be,” said Eustace, cheerily; and to this Mr. Mayfield assented. “Though ’tis somewhat long since I have distinguished myself as a pedestrian,” he added, doubtfully. “You can take your ease at your inn, Uncle Dan, and spin copy for your ravening editors, while I push on to that place.” “Perhaps it would be best so, Eustace,” answered Mr. Mayfield, thoughtfully. He divined that the young man was anxious that his first visit to that scene should be made companionless. The memories connected with that spot were too sad for sympathy--too bitter for friendly commune. After an evening which the indefatigable essayist, devoted to a review of a new translation of Juvenal for the _Areopagus_, and Eustace to meditations of the most sombre hue, they left Aberdeen at daybreak next morning, and went on to a small station, which was their nearest point to Halko’s Head. This nearest point proved five-and-twenty miles distant from the fishing-village; but on inquiry the travellers discovered that there was a comfortable halting-place at a village or small town eighteen miles farther on, and only seven from the wild headland to which Eustace Thorburn’s steps were bent. Vehicles were not easily to be obtained at this remote station, and the travellers decided upon walking the eighteen miles at a leisurely pace, stopping to examine anything worth seeing which they might find on their route.