194 REMINISCENCES OF THE LEWS. 



in some gleam of light you could see the boiling 

 foam of the waves. God help the unfortunate 

 boat upon it then ! What the wind can be one 

 has no idea of. I have been blown over on 

 foot more than once, and how one ever got 

 home in the stormy nights from the bothy to 

 Soval, without being blown over — trap, horse, 

 and all — I can't tell. I had frequent occasions 

 to go to Stornoway, and T have walked there 

 in days I would not take my horse and trap 

 out — partly out of charity for my poor old 

 horse Fred, partly out of regard for my own 

 bones. The weather materially interfered not 

 only with the pleasure, but almost with the 

 possibility, of shooting ; for you may fish in 

 very bad weather, you may stalk in ditto, and 

 you may hunt, but you can't shoot a wild hill 

 country with dogs in rain and storm. 



It is this weather that so thrashes and half- 

 kills your dogs. Supposing the day not to be 

 so bad, the night's and the previous day's rain 

 has swollen the small burns into torrents, let 

 alone the rivers. You may manage yourself 

 to get over the stepping-stones, or you may 

 wade through not much over the knee ; the un- 

 fortunate dogs have, however, to swim — often 

 carried over by the stream and ducked over 

 head. Now, this is not pleasant for even the 



