After tedious travel of some hours, we came to what, I believe, we must call a village, a place where there were three huts built of turf; at one of which we were to have our dinner and our bed, for we could not reach any better place that night.  This place is called Enoch in Glenmorrison.  The house, in which we lodged, was distinguished by a chimney, the rest had only a hole for the smoke.  Here we had eggs, and mutton, and a chicken, and a sausage, and rum.  In the afternoon tea was made by a very decent girl in a printed linen:  she engaged me so much, that I made her a present of Cocker’s arithmetick.  I am, &c.

XXI.—­To MRS. THRALE.

Skie, Sept. 14,1773.

DEAREST MADAM,—­The post, which comes but once a week into these parts, is so soon to go, that I have not time to go on where I left off in my last letter.  I have been several days in the island of Raarsa, and am now again in the isle of Skie, but at the other end of it.

Skie is almost equally divided between the two great families of Macdonald and Macleod, other proprietors having only small districts.  The two great lords do not know, within twenty square miles, the contents of their own territories.

—­kept up but ill the reputation of highland hospitality; we are now with Macleod, quite at the other end of the island, where there is a fine young gentleman and fine ladies.  The ladies are studying Erse.  I have a cold, and am miserably deaf, and am troublesome to lady Macleod; I force her to speak loud, but she will seldom speak loud enough.

Raarsa is an island about fifteen miles long and two broad, under the dominion of one gentleman, who has three sons and ten daughters; the eldest is the beauty of this part of the world, and has been polished at Edinburgh:  they sing and dance, and, without expense, have upon their table most of what sea, air, or earth can afford.  I intended to have written about Raarsa, but the post will not wait longer than while I send my compliments to my dear master and little mistresses.  I am, &c.

XXII.—­To MRS. THRALE.

Skie, Sept. 21, 1773.

DEAREST MADAM,—­I am so vexed at the necessity of sending yesterday so short a letter, that I purpose to get a long letter beforehand, by writing something every day, which I may the more easily do, as a cold makes me now too deaf to take the usual pleasure in conversation.  Lady Macleod is very good to me; and the place, at which we now are, is equal, in strength of situation, in the wildness of the adjacent country, and in the plenty and elegance of the domestick entertainment, to a castle in Gothick romances.  The sea, with a little island, is before us; cascades play within view.  Close to the house is the formidable skeleton of an old castle, probably Danish; and the whole mass of building stands upon a protuberance of rock, inaccessible till of late, but by a pair of stairs on the seaside, and secure, in ancient times, against any enemy that was likely to invade the kingdom of Skie.