A
JOURNEY
TO THE
WESTERN ISLANDS OF SCOTLAND.
I had desired to visit the Hebrides, or Western Islands
of Scotland, so long, that I scarcely remember how the
wish was originally excited; and was, in the autumn of
the year 1773, induced to undertake the journey, by
finding in Mr. Boswell a companion, whose acuteness
would help my inquiry, and whose gaiety of conversation
and civility of manners are sufficient to counteract the inconveniencies
of travel, in countries less hospitable than
we have passed.
On the eighteenth of August, we left Edinburgh, a city too well known to admit description, and directed our course northward, along the eastern coast of Scotland, accompanied the first day by another gentleman, who could stay with us only long enough to show us how much we lost at separation.
As we crossed the frith of Forth, our curiosity was attracted by Inch Keith, a small island, which neither of my companions had ever visited, though, lying within their view, it had all their lives solicited their notice. Here, by climbing, with some difficulty, over shattered crags, we made the first experiment of unfrequented coasts. Inch Keith is nothing more than a rock covered with a thin layer of earth, not wholly bare of grass, and very fertile of thistles. A small herd of cows grazes annually upon it in the summer. It seems never to have afforded to man or beast a permanent habitation.
