THE PEAT ISLE. 241 



beginning at Rossdhu House. One, down to the old 

 water of Fruin, called the Mid-Eoss Shore, is a great 

 resort of widgeon and ducks. It extends along a flat 

 grassy lonely coast, with fine screens of whin and broom. 

 Another takes in the whole shore as far as Luss. It is full 

 of weedy bays and green points, and is much frequented 

 by dun-birds, tufts, scaups, and morillons. The third 

 range comprehends the islands viz., Inch Moan, which I 

 have just described, Inch Tavannach, and Inch Connachan. 

 The narrow passage between these islands, called the 

 Straits, is a fine shelter for all wild-fowl from the hooper 

 to the teal. And, lastly, the Castle of Galbraith, a very 

 small island, although it has no feeding ground, makes 

 a good resting-place for ducks at mid-day. When they 

 are detected there, in fancied security, with their beaks 

 under their wings, and one leg tucked up comfortably 

 into their breast feathers, it is the most certain oppor- 

 tunity for a sitting shot. There is also a fine view of Inch 

 Moan, and part of the Straits, from the top of the ruin, 

 once the yearly resort of the osprey, and which I never 

 ascend without regret for having murdered her on her 

 own threshold. From the top of this ruinous castle, the 

 best haunts of the wild-fowl on the adjoining islands may 

 be commanded with a telescope. Tradition says that a 

 sort of wild man, called Galbraith, domiciled in the old 

 castle, and being a most expert swimmer, as he had much 

 need to be, he used to strike out for Rossdhu House, take 

 the roast off the spit, tie it round his body with a string, 

 and return in triumph to his island. When a boy, I was 



Q 



