ABSTRACT
Anstruther is a place sacred to the Muse; she inspired (really to a considerable extent) Tennant's vernacular poem Anst'er Fair; and the author have there waited on her myself with much devotion. Only one thing in connection with the harbor tempted me; and that was the diving. Into the bay of Wick stretched the dark length of the unfinished breakwater, in its cage of open staging; the travellers (like frames of churches) over-plumbing all; and away at the extreme end. the divers toiling unseen on the foundation. There was something strangely exasperating, as well as strangely wearying, in these uncommanded evolutions. Upon any American, the strangeness of a incident is somewhat lost. They were as strange to their surroundings as the author lordly evangelist or the old Spanish grandee on the Fair Isle.
