108 A HUNDRED YEAES 



distribution. I have sometimes wondered how my 

 father and mother would have looked at anyone who 

 suggested their selling salmon or game ! So when Kate 

 had selected her fish for kipper-smoking — and no one 

 ever matched her at that trade, for the Tigh Dige 

 breakfast without hot plates of kipper was not to be 

 tolerated — and when Mrs. Cook had secured her share, 

 every other fish was despatched to the tenants and 

 crofters, and they were legion, within reach. And 

 now, instead of those happy, exciting times, there 

 are horrid bag nets all round the coast, which keep 

 up a melancholy stream of fish, all going to greedy 

 London in exchange for horrid, filthy, useful lucre. 

 My father, luckily for him, died ere the Gairloch salmon 

 came to such degeneration.'' 



Kate Archy was widow of Fraser, our gardener, and 

 mother of a daughter who succeeded her and remained 

 with the family all her life. I see her now in the high 

 white mutch, herself considerably above ordinary height, 

 stalking over the lawns and along the roads with a 

 strong apron fastened round her, containing, perhaps, 

 seven or eight live chickens, and at her right side a huge 

 pocket. With her right hand she hauls a squalling 

 chicken out of the apron. In a second the left hand 

 holds the feet, the knuckle of the right thumb (did she 

 not teach me herself carefully ?) dislocates chicky's neck, 

 and a large handful of feathers goes into the pocket, 

 till in an amazingly short time the featherless victim 

 is thrust away among the survivors in the apron. 

 Then another suddenly goes through the same ceremony, 



