18 
EARLY REMINISCENCES 
but a letter inscribed simply “To the flyman in Eanach” was 
delivered by the first post. 
We did not give “light” much chance as an attracting agency, 
since we spent most of the short hours of darkness outside, neverthe¬ 
less a specimen of A gratis lucernea (which we suspected of designs 
upon our treacle store) once gave us a quarter of an hour’s chase 
round the tiny room. The small window-panes were examined 
daily for the local Oecophora similella, Linn. ( stipella, Doubl.) which 
associated with Tinea pellionella, T. (?) fuscipunctella, and T. rusticella , 
as well as remarkably fine Endrosis fenestrella, and an occasional 
Aglossa pinguinalis; however, we found the Oecophora more common 
in a neighbouring shed. 
Our fare was simple, our appetites comprehensive. We brought 
a ham and a bag of oatmeal along with us, and had arranged for 
a periodical supply of mutton by the “ machine,” as the carrier’s 
cart was not inaptly named. However the thirty miles jolting 
proved quite too much for the second joint, so we gave up mutton. 
Luckily there were plenty of eggs, and accordingly when we left 
for the South the chief item in our bill was “19 dozen eggs at 3d. 
the dozen.” 
One day we were honoured by a call from Capt. Robertson, of 
(I think it was) the Highland Light Infantry, a son or nephew of 
the Struaness of Struan—the great Lady of the place, who lived in 
“ the beg hoose.” As a result he was good enough to grace our 
humble board, and in honour of the great man our hostess provided 
three poached eggs each, instead of the usual ration of two. At this 
we fly-men greatly rejoiced, but the gallant officer, whose appetite 
was on the peace establishment, was amply satisfied with two eggs, 
and great was his amusement when Blackburn and I, having easily 
demolished our three eggs apiece, greedily tossed for a fourth, since 
we had no notion of letting his odd one go out. 
Eor some time we were at.a loss to make out what was the staple 
food of our Robertsons. Oatmeal, to our surprise, they had none; 
certainly they did not fare on mutton, for “ braxy sheep ” is a luxury 
rarely to be had, and they could not periodically feast upon the one 
small porker. Careful observation showed us that the chickens and 
the dog were both fed on potato peel, and that the said porker lived 
on potatoes. In fact our hosts were potato feeders, being too poor 
for oatmeal porridge or oat cake. 
One day that same porker’s screams rent the mountain air, and 
made me leave pins and setting boards to rush to his sty. There 
I saw Maggie, our cook, parlour-maid and house-maid, seated in the 
