hey consulted had either in grammar or turn of
phrase some special way of framing the sentences. "Grand Gaelic to-day!"
is an exclamation sometimes heard at the door of a Highland church in
town, and indicates that the minister who has officiated comes from the
same strath as the person speaking.

A moderate amount of encouragement to Gaelic is all that can reasonably
be expected from the Government, seeing that the prime duty of the
schoolmaster everywhere is to impart a sound knowledge of English.[2]

[2] In an editorial of June 6, 1908, the _Glasgow Herald_
excellently says:--"The first requisite for a Highlander is such
a knowledge of English as will open up to him the lucrative
employment from which ignorance of English must shut him out,
and it is no kindness to him to interfere with his acquisition
of this indispensable accomplishment.... So good a Gael as
Professor Magnus Maclean has observed that 'even more remarkable
than the dearth of philosophical and dramatic poems, and, we
might add, of narrative and pastoral poetry proper, is the
scarcity of Gaelic prose.' By all means, however, let a literary
knowledge of the Gaelic language be encouraged among
Gaelic-speaking children. It is a very different matter to
enforce such steps as would lead to the teaching of Gaelic to
children that live indeed in Gaelic-speaking districts but yet
speak only English."

HAPPINESS AND GENIALITY OF NATIVES.

What has struck me most in my travels by land and sea, is the
extraordinary amount of happiness, geniality, and good humour that still
exists in the world. There is a substantial amount of felicity in the
majority of men. Every one knows the sentence of Emerson: "Give me
health and a day, and I will make the pomp of empires ridiculous." I
like to give concrete examples of philosophic maxims, and I should
particularise Emerson's dictum thus: "Bard Macdonald of Trotternish,
Skye, whose only cow came near being impounded by the Congested
Districts Board in order to pay for the price of seed-potatoes furnished
to him by the said Board, having good health, makes the pomp of empires
ridiculous three hundred and sixty-five days every year." Bard Macdonald
is a very poor man, yet he has contrived to hitch his waggon on to a
fixed star. He lives in one of those low thatch-roofed bothies that,
with the accompanying croft, are rented at from L2 to L4 a year. He has
a wif