THE ST. KILDAXS' LOVK FOR THEIR Is LAND. 49 



eujoved heartily. I aiiuised tlieni lii^lily on one 

 occasion bv i)iittin<>- my brotlier ii]) for auction as 

 an eligible vounji- man who could climl) cliffs, catch 

 fowls, pliotog-i'a])h, and tlirt. As 1 couldn't get a 

 bid I offered him for a sovereign. An old maid, 

 who couldn't speak English, informed me through 

 the factor that she wouldn't give me sixpence for 

 him. Not to be outdone, I at once gave her a 

 pressing invitation to accompany us back to London, 

 in order that she might get to know him better on 

 the road ; but she answered, with the traditional 

 suspicion of her race, that she wouldn't go if I 

 gave her as much money as MacLeod had, as she 

 was too much afraid Ave should throw her over- 

 board. 



The St. Kildans have a deep love for their 

 rocky home. I playfully invited several of them 

 to accompany me on leaving the island, ]jut they 

 shook their heads, and told me they couldn't live 

 without " going to the rocks." I think that this 

 attachment to the land of one's birth is a thing 

 proportionate to its isolation. My own heart often 

 pines for a breath of moorland air, and in my 

 dreams I hear the Curlews crying far away on 

 lonely hilltops. I knew a little girl, living high 

 up in a wild Yorkshire dale, who was compelled 

 bv force of circumstances to move away with her 

 parents into a big Lancashire manufacturing town. 

 One day some of her relations sent a pound of 

 fresh butter as a present, wrapjoed up in dock 

 leaves. The little girl's heart remained so true to 

 the land of her birth that she seized one of these 

 and said — "Let me kiss it, mother; it has come 

 from dear old Muker." 



I had heard and read a good deal about 

 the unblushing greed and covet(jusness of the 



