lona and Its Sound 



they had found land, lacked in some cases the strength to 

 fly farther and fell exhausted in the water. 



One island lying in the sound is noted for the white 

 heather which grows on its narrow crown, and, indeed, on 

 all the islands a profusion of wild flowers blossom in their 

 season. Here there are no trees, for the great winds of 

 winter will suffer nothing beyond the height of a bush to 

 offer resistance to their rush. 



But one island there is on which no shrub grows, on 

 which no heather carpets the ground, and that is the lonely 

 rock of Reidh Eilean, which lies west of the sound, west 

 of lona herself. The rough summit of a hill set in the 

 Atlantic and just rising beyond the water's surface is this 

 lonely island. Many sea birds have their home here, and 

 of a summer's night the silvery tribe of the herring play 

 on the surface of trie quiet waters, and perhaps the storm 

 petrel on whose notes a piper of old composed a tune 

 flits swallow-like past, winging her way to those Islands where 

 she has her home during the season of her nesting. 



Guarded by her sentinel islands and her sound of restless 

 waters, lona, full of sacred memories, rests quietly and 

 securely, for she is safe in the keeping of the Spirit of the 

 West Wind, which can bring her naught but good from the 

 vast spaces of the sea. 



