dinner. The table was not coarsely
heaped, but, at once, plentiful and elegant. They do not pretend to make
a loaf; there are only cakes, commonly of oats or barley, but they made
me very nice cakes of wheat flour. I always sat at the left hand of lady
Raarsa; and young Macleod of Skie, the chieftain of the clan, sat on the
right.

After supper, a young lady, who was visiting, sung Erse songs, in which
lady Raarsa joined, prettily enough, but not gracefully; the young
ladies sustained the chorus better. They are very little used to be
asked questions, and not well prepared with answers. When one of the
songs was over, I asked the princess, that sat next to me, "What is that
about?" I question if she conceived that I did not understand it. "For
the entertainment of the company," said she. "But, madam, what is the
meaning of it?" "It is a love song." This was all the intelligence that
I could obtain; nor have I been able to procure the translation of a
single line of Erse.

At twelve it was bed-time. I had a chamber to myself, which, in eleven
rooms to forty people, was more than my share. How the company and the
family were distributed, is not easy to tell. Macleod, the chieftain,
and Boswell, and I, had all single chambers, on the first floor. There
remained eight rooms only, for, at least, seven and thirty lodgers. I
suppose they put up temporary beds in the dining-room, where they stowed
all the young ladies. There was a room above stairs with six beds, in
which they put ten men. The rest in my next.

XXIV.--To MRS. THRALE.

Ostich in Skie, Sept. 30, 1773.

DEAREST MADAM,--I am still confined in Skie. We were unskilful
travellers, and imagined that the sea was an open road, which we could
pass at pleasure; but we have now learned, with some pain, that we may
still wait, for a long time, the caprices of the equinoctial winds, and
sit reading or writing, as I now do, while the tempest is rolling the
sea, or roaring in the mountains. I am now no longer pleased with the
delay; you can hear from me but seldom, and I cannot at all hear from
you. It comes into my mind, that some evil may happen, or that I might
be of use while I am away. But these thoughts are vain; the wind is
violent and adverse, and our boat cannot yet come. I must content myself
with writing to you, and hoping that you will sometime receive my
letter. Now to my narrative.

Sept. 9th. Having passed the night as is usual, I rose, and found the
d