SEPTEMBER 341 



hardiest. All this while lying before us can be seen the long low 

 shore of Coll, a narrow island about thirteen miles long, very 

 stony and desolate-looking, and at length, running round a point 

 about which hang gannet and other diving birds watching for 

 their prey from on high, we enter what is by courtesy called a 

 harbour. I say ' by courtesy,' for if the wind is blowing hard, 

 especially from the sou'-east, it is impossible for the steamer to 

 communicate with the shore ; and even at the best of times she 

 does not seem to care to undertake the adventure of mooring by 

 the little stone pier, preferring to anchor a hundred yards or more 

 away. Presently a broad-bottomed boat comes out, into which 

 we are bundled with our luggage, some other passengers return- 

 ing from the gathering at Oban, several black-faced rams, and a 

 sheepdog. Unfortunately for himself, the dog was placed too 

 near one of these rams, which, there on the bosom of the deep, 

 proceeded to avenge the wrongs of its race upon his person 

 until he retreated discomfited to another part of the boat. 



Half an hour later we were driving towards the Castle, that 

 is situated five miles away at a place called Breachacha, which, 

 being interpreted, means Spotted Meadow. The Spots, it may be 

 explained, are the lovely flowers wherewith it is adorned in spring, 

 and especially a certain variety of wild geranium. Except that a 

 good road now runs across it, with telegraph poles at the side, 

 the landscape cannot have changed much since it was scanned 

 by Boswell. There are the same low rough moorlands and the same 

 dark lochs, while to the left heaves the same eternal sea. Pre- 

 sently we pass a farmstead built of substantial stone and with its 

 back turned to the ocean for protection from the roaring winds, but 

 this house was not there in his day. Then we come to a sawmill 

 driven by a water-wheel, and lying about it baulks of timber washed 

 out of wrecks that have been ground to pieces on this stormy 

 coast. Another mile and the Castle is in view — a three storied and 

 naked-looking building coated with grey cement and backed by 

 the massive ruin of the old home of the McLeans, who owned this 

 island for many generations. Round about the Castle are lands 



