54 Mr John MacGillivray on the Island of St Kilda. 
houses, doubtless the predisposing cause, this fatal scourge will 
soon be rooted out from amongst them, as no cases of it had 
occurred for more than a year previous to my visit.* 
The St Kildians differ little in appearance from their He- 
bridian neighbours. Being of Danish origin, they are gene- 
rally of fair complexion, and of small stature, for I believe 
none of them exceed five feet and a half in height, the average 
being perhaps two inches less. Their language is of course 
the Gaelic, but their dialect is slightly peculiar, and they are, 
moreover, distinguished from all the other islanders by a lisp, 
which is more apparent in the women. 
With regard to the domestic manners of the natives of St 
Kilda, a great change has taken place, even within the last 
few years. Their houses are no longer the miserable hovels 
congregated together in a confused mass that formed their ham- 
let in former times, but, owing to the praiseworthy exertions 
of their most excellent minister, encouraged by the proprietor, 
they are now better lodged, clothed, and fed, than are the 
great mass of the population throughout the Hebrides. The 
modern village is built in regular order, with the gable end 
of each hut touching upon a well-paved footpath, which runs 
parallel to one side of the bay, and between which and the sea 
lie the cultivated lands, neatly divided, and kept in excellent 
order. Each family has two huts, one employed as a dwel- 
ling ; the other, used as a storehouse for the feathers and oil, 
is also employed as a stable during winter.+ These two houses 
are always adjacent, separated by a narrow passage into which 
the doors of both open, and thus mutually protecting each 
other from the sudden gusts from the hills and the storms of 
winter. The huts are very neatly built in the ordinary way, 
having double walls, the interval being filled with earth ; while 
the thatched roof is secured by means of straw ropes hay- 
* T have since seen a fatal case in Berneray, an island in the Sound of 
Harris, where it was once prevalent, but is now rare. 
Tt On first entering the bay, a stranger is struck with the number of small 
stone edifices which he sees scattered at intervals along the slopes. These 
might naturally be mistaken for the dwellings of the natives, but are merely 
storehouses for turf and winter provisions, such as dried gannets, and the 
eggs of sea-fowl. 
