THE ST. KILDANS' LOVE FOB THEIR ISLAND. 49 



enjoyed heartily. I amused them highly on one 

 occasion by putting my brother up for auction as 

 an eligible young man who could climb cliffs, catch 

 fowls, photograph, and flirt. As I couldn't get a 

 bid I offered him for a sovereign. An old maid, 

 who couldn't speak English, informed me through 

 the factor that she wouldn't give me sixpence for 

 him. Not to be outdone, I at once gave her a 

 pressing invitation to accompany us back to London, 

 in order that she might get to know him better on 

 the road; but she answered, with the traditional 

 suspicion of her race, that she wouldn't go if I 

 gave her as much money as MacLeod had, as she 

 was too much afraid we should throw her over- 

 board. 



The St. Kildans have a deep love for their 

 rocky home. I playfully invited several of them 

 to accompany me on leaving the island, but they 

 shook their heads, and told me they couldn't live 

 without " going to the rocks." I think that this 

 attachment to the land of one's birth is a, thing 

 proportionate to its isolation. My own heart often 

 pines for a breath of moorland air, and in my 

 dreams I hear the Curlews crying far away on 

 lonely hilltops. I knew a little girl, living high 

 up in a wild Yorkshire dale, who was compelled 

 by force of circumstances to move away with her 

 parents into a big Lancashire manufacturing town. 

 One day some of her relations sent a pound of 

 fresh butter as a present, wrapped up in dock 

 leaves. The little girl's heart remained so true to 

 the land of her birth that she seized one of these 

 and said "Let me kiss it, mother; it has come 

 from dear old Muker." 



I had heard and read a good deal about 

 the unblushing greed and covetousness of the 

 E 



