Trusted, a mind not naturally too much
disposed to fear, may preserve some degree of cheerfulness; but
what must be the solicitude of him who should be wandering, among
the craggs and hollows, benighted, ignorant, and alone?
The fictions of the Gothick romances were not so remote from
credibility as they are now thought. In the full prevalence of the
feudal institution, when violence desolated the world, and every
baron lived in a fortress, forests and castles were regularly
succeeded by each other, and the adventurer might very suddenly
pass from the gloom of woods, or the ruggedness of moors, to seats
of plenty, gaiety, and magnificence. Whatever is imaged in the
wildest tale, if giants, dragons, and enchantment be excepted,
would be felt by him, who, wandering in the mountains without a
guide, or upon the sea without a pilot, should be carried amidst
his terror and uncertainty, to the hospitality and elegance of
Raasay or Dunvegan.
To Coriatachan at last we came, and found ourselves welcomed as
before. Here we staid two days, and made such inquiries as
curiosity suggested. The house was filled with company, among whom
Mr. Macpherson and his sister distinguished themselves by their
politeness and accomplishments. By him we were invited to Ostig, a
house not far from Armidel, where we might easily hear of a boat,
when the weather would suffer us to leave the Island.
OSTIG IN SKY
At Ostig, of which Mr. Macpherson is minister, we were entertained
for some days, then removed to Armidel, where we finished our
observations on the island of Sky.
As this Island lies in the fifty-seventh degree, the air cannot be
supposed to have much warmth. The long continuance of the sun
above the horizon, does indeed sometimes produce great heat in
northern latitudes; but this can only happen in sheltered places,
where the atmosphere is to a certain degree stagnant, and the same
mass of air continues to receive for many hours the rays of the
sun, and the vapours of the earth. Sky lies open on the west and
north to a vast extent of ocean, and is cooled in the summer by
perpetual ventilation, but by the same blasts is kept warm in
winter. Their weather is not pleasing. Half the year is deluged
with rain. From the autumnal to the vernal equinox, a dry day is
hardly known, except when the showers are suspended by a tempest.
Under such skies can be expected no great exuberance of vegetation.
Their winter overtakes their summer, and their harvest lies upon
the ground drenched with rain. The autumn struggles hard to
produce some of our early fruits. I gathered gooseberries in
September; but they were small, and the husk was thick.
Their winter is seldom such as puts a full stop to the growth of
plants, or reduces the cattle to live wholly on the surplusage of
the summer. In the year Seventy-one they had a severe season,
remembered by the name of the Black Spring, from which the island
has not yet recovered. The snow lay long upon the ground, a
calamity hardly known before. Part of their cattle died for want,
part were unseasonably sold to buy sustenance for the owners; and,
what I have not read or heard of before, the kine that survived
were so emaciated and dispirited, that they did not require the
male at the usual time. Many of the roebucks perished.
The soil, as in other countries, has its diversities. In some
parts there is only a thin layer of earth spread upon a rock, which
bears nothing but short brown heath, and perhaps is not generally
capable of any better product. There are many bogs or mosses of
greater or less extent, where the soil cannot be supposed to want
depth, though it is too wet for the plow. But we did not observe
in these any aquatick plants. The vallies and the mountains are
alike darkened with heath. Some grass, however, grows here and
there, and some happier spots of earth are capable of tillage.
Their agriculture is laborious, and perhaps rather feeble than
unskilful. Their chief manure is seaweed, which, when they lay it
to rot upon the field, gives them a better crop than those of the
Highlands. They heap sea shells upon the dunghill, which in time
moulder into a fertilising substance. When they find a vein of
earth where they cannot use it, they dig it up, and add it to the
mould of a more commodious place.
Their corn grounds often lie in such intricacies among the craggs,
that there is no room for the action of a team and plow. The soil
is then turned up by manual labour, with an instrument called a
crooked spade, of a form and weight which to me appeared very
incommodious, and would perhaps be soon improved in a country where
workmen could be easily found and easily paid. It has a narrow
blade of iron fixed to a long and heavy piece of wood, which must
have, about a foot and a half above the iron, a knee or flexure
with the angle downwards. When the farmer encounters a stone which
is the great impediment of his operations, he drives the blade
under it, and bringing the knee or angle to the ground, has in the
long handle a very forcible lever.
According to the different mode of tillage, farms are distinguished
into long land and short land. Long land is that which affords
room for a plow, and short land is turned up by the spade.
The grain which they commit to the furrows thus tediously formed,
is either oats or barley. They do not sow barley without very
copious manure, and then they expect from it ten for one, an
increase equal to that of better countries; but the culture is so
operose that they content themselves commonly with oats; and who
can relate without compassion, that after all their diligence they
are to expect only a triple increase?
