I A Gossip on a Sutherla7id Hill-side 2 1 7 



family, to the end of their reign, always stopped and 

 dined at a green knoll near the Crask, still called 

 Lord Reay's Table ; noiv you have a good inn. 



By-the-bye, I remember an anecdote of this same 

 road before it was made, worth the recording. When 

 the father of the last Lord Reay who possessed the 

 estate changed his residence from Skibo to Tongue, 

 his son was put into a creel on one side of a pony, 

 and counterbalanced by his younger brother, the 

 admiral, in another ; the old lord, being a great lord 

 and not easily counterbalanced, had Jiis opposite 

 creel filled with big stones. Remember, this is not 

 so very many years ago. 



The only house we need trouble ourselves about 

 just now stands clear and white on the brown moor, 

 like a target with a black window for a bull's-eye, 

 the habitation of shepherd Rory. Trundle on, 

 powney ; you shall soon be up to your hocks in the 

 warm heather in his stable. 



At last, the last bridge and the last torrent, and 

 the house we have seen so long is reached. A real 

 two-storied house, well built, and warm, and if not 

 comfortable and clean, the fault is the holder's ; for 

 a head-shepherd is no unimportant personage, and 

 must be well treated. In many cases he is the real 

 money-winner of the concern, and in all a most im- 

 portant agent in increasing the balance at the 

 Golspie bank. 



* How are ye the day, Rory ? ' 



' Brawly, thank you. How's yersel' ? Will ye 



