THE WILDS OF SUTHERLAND. 245 



To secure this red-bill I eagerly ordered his 

 boat to be ready at nine next morning. " What 

 can that bird be?" I said so often during the 

 evening, that my son compared my curiosity to 

 that of the old Caithness laird, who never could 

 rest without knowing everything about everybody. 

 When travelling north with a friend, he stayed the 

 night at a small inn. " Ye'll be frae Caithness?" 

 says he to the maid -of -all -work. "No," rather 

 curtly. " Frae Sutherland, then ? " " No," a little 

 sulkily. " Ou, I hae't; ye're frae Koss-shire?" 

 " No," still. " Ye maun be frae the Mearns, 

 then ? " The " No " was nearly smothered by the 

 slamming of the door. All the evening the laird 

 was thoughtful and abstracted, and when he took 

 his candle to go to bed, made the earnest appeal 

 to his companion " Whar can that lassie be 

 frae?" 



Macleod honestly told us that the sea-eagle 

 had not built on Handa last season, nor this, so 

 far as he knew. He gave their correct titles to 

 the common guillemots, razor-bills, puffins, cor- 

 morants green and black, &c., and was only a 

 little confused about the gulls. What, then, could 



