An Orkney Maid

Yesterday morning this thing happened to me: I was reading the New York Times and my eyes suddenly fell upon one word, and that word rang a little bell in my memory, Kirkwall! The next moment I had closed my eyes in order to see backward more clearly, and slowly, but surely, the old, old town – standing boldly upon the very beach of the stormy North Sea – became clear in my mental vision. There was a whole fleet of fishing boats, and a few smart smuggling craft rocking gently in its wonderful harbour – a harbour so deep and safe, and so capacious that it appeared capable of sheltering the navies of the world.