A VISIT TO ST. KILDA. 155 



St. Kildans put out to the smack, and in this we 

 rowed to land. A party of men awaited us on 

 shore, hauling us boat and all on to the rocks as a 

 favourable wave washed us landwards. What a 

 welcome we had, to be sure, for we were the first 

 visitors, the first bearers of tidings from the outside 

 world for nine weary months. Almost the entire 

 population some seventy-eight souls headed by 

 their faithful pastor, the Rev. John Mackay, were 

 waiting to receive us, and hand-shaking became 

 universal. First and foremost in his welcome was 

 this quaint, genial old pastor, who insisted on our 

 partaking of his hospitality, plying us meanwhile 

 with question after question concerning the busy 

 world we had left : " Who was Prime Minister ? " 

 " How was the Queen and Royal Family ? " 

 "What great ones of the earth had passed away?" 

 " How went the harvest ? " " What was the 

 price of corn ? " and so on. Alas ! Pastor Mackay 

 is now gathered to his fathers. Doubtless he sleeps 

 his last sleep on the lonely island he loved so well, 

 for when I parted from him with a hearty hand- 

 shake years ago, he assured me, with tears in his 

 eyes and faltering voice, that nothing could induce 

 him to leave his little flock, and that he meant to 

 die, as he had lived, amongst them. 



