Nor did I hear any thing of their sheep,
to be particularly remarked.
In the penury of these malignant regions, nothing is left that can
be converted to food. The goats and the sheep are milked like the
cows. A single meal of a goat is a quart, and of a sheep a pint.
Such at least was the account, which I could extract from those of
whom I am not sure that they ever had inquired.
The milk of goats is much thinner than that of cows, and that of
sheep is much thicker. Sheeps milk is never eaten before it is
boiled: as it is thick, it must be very liberal of curd, and the
people of St. Kilda form it into small cheeses.
The stags of the mountains are less than those of our parks, or
forests, perhaps not bigger than our fallow deer. Their flesh has
no rankness, nor is inferiour in flavour to our common venison.
The roebuck I neither saw nor tasted. These are not countries for
a regular chase. The deer are not driven with horns and hounds. A
sportsman, with his gun in his hand, watches the animal, and when
he has wounded him, traces him by the blood.
They have a race of brinded greyhounds, larger and stronger than
those with which we course hares, and those are the only dogs used
by them for the chase.
