Easaval of Smith Uist 



From the north a strong breeze came away, so that in the 

 Sound of Barra white-capped wavelets were hurried before 

 the wind, and the small fishing-boats made heavy weather 

 of it as they set their course for home. 



At the foot of the hill a hen harrier passed me, beating 

 the fields methodically and causing great commotion amongst 

 the fussy and self-satisfied corn buntings, though he paid no 

 attention to the birds he put up from the growing crops as he 

 passed. 



Grey crows haunted the shore, and a little way out to sea 

 gannets were diving at their fishing. The breeze quietened, 

 and late at night the sun shone on the north-western horizon 

 before dipping beneath the Atlantic near to the lonely island 

 of St. Kilda, where, summer and winter, the long swell breaks 

 on the rocks, and the inhabitants live out their lonely lives, 

 remote from the busy world, and knowing but little of it or 

 its ways. 



