56 A HUNDRED YEARS 



Longa : "On Sundays when there was no service in 

 Gairloch Church my father often booked us boys for a 

 sail in his charming thirty-foot-keel barge to visit some 

 of the townships round the coast and have a kindly 

 word with the people, or even a scold, though that was 

 rarely needed. Sometimes we landed for a walk on 

 Longa Island. It was about half a mile in diameter, 

 all glens and moor, with good grass, which was kept 

 for wintering for the young of the sixty Tigh Dige cows, 

 so that they might be in the best of condition when ready 

 for market the following year, dressed in their beautiful 

 long, shining coats, the pride of Highland cattle. We 

 often came home with faces nicely painted with blae- 

 berry juice and also crowberries, for that most coveted 

 wild fruit grew in Longa. When it was found out that 

 Longa was our destination, a little dog was often put 

 into the barge to help us to discover if one of the stormy 

 petrels (' Mother Carey's Chicken '), who loved wild 

 Longa as a breeding-place, was at home in the peat- 

 holes or under flat stones, which were generally chosen 

 by * Mrs. Carey ' as a waterproof covering for her wee 

 white egg or little black, tiny pet. Doggie always knew 

 by the wild, fishy smell whether ' Mrs. Carey ' was at 

 home or not, and thus saved us much Sunday digging 

 in our endeavours to bring her to Tigh Dige to be shown 

 to the dear mother.'* 



In winter and early spring, when there were no birds' 

 eggs to be got, my mother and I used to fish vigorously. 

 We had a good crew always ready, and setting cod- 

 lines was great sport. I remember that on a certain 



