al gentlemen who have taken up their
position in remote districts of Scotland, and devote themselves to the
healing art under most disadvantageous circumstances. The distances are
incredibly long and dangerous in winter: I have in my mind an insular
doctor who has a deal of midnight boating to do in glacial weather, and
whose bills are often paid not in coin but _in fleece newly off the
sheep's back_. As the population gets smaller, the doctor's work becomes
more laborious and less remunerative. The institution of district nurses
has been a great success, and I wish there were more of them. A
sympathetic and competent _nurse_ is a valuable asset in a crofting or
seafaring community. In one district of Mull, recently visited, I found
that the nurse was also the village librarian. She was quite at home
both with lotions and literature, and could recommend a poet or prepare
a poultice with equal skill. The ante-room to the village hall was her
dispensary: it seemed to me remarkably complete, and to have as
scientific an odour as any city pharmacy. I was glad to see that the
Clan Maclean was so well supplied with the resources of modern
civilisation.

In every one of the village libraries there is a copy of Black's
_Medical Dictionary_, a most useful compilation, written in clear and
simple language, and detailing all the commonest remedies. Many rural
teachers and clergymen have considerable skill in coping with illness.
Every country minister should have at least a smattering of medical
knowledge.[4]

[4] At Spean Bridge there is a worthy old farmer, Mr. Chalmers,
who has a widespread fame for dexterous bone-setting, a talent
which is said to have descended to him from a long line of
forbears. A young gentleman from Glasgow was in the hotel there
during my stay, and from personal experience spoke of Mr.
Chalmers's remarkable powers. He told me that patients come from
far and near (after eminent surgeons have failed to give
benefit), in order to be treated at Spean Bridge.

HOTELS AND ANGLERS.

Wherever the angler goes, you find a good hotel. Uist is low-lying and
barren, with nothing to attract the eye--no tourist would go near the
place for anything it has to show in the way of scenery. But as it has
hundreds of small lochs, full of fish, ardent anglers go thither from
all parts of the British Isles; and so at Lochmaddy and Lochboisdale the
hotels are not merely good, they are excel