scure
island; on which

--"nulla campis Arbor aestiva recreatur aura."

There is literally no tree upon the island, part of it is a sandy waste,
over which it would be really dangerous to travel in dry weather, and
with a high wind. It seems to be little more than one continued rock,
covered, from space to space, with a thin layer of earth. It is,
however, according to the highland notion, very populous, and life is
improved beyond the manners of Skie; for the huts are collected into
little villages, and every one has a small garden of roots and cabbage.
The laird has a new house built by his uncle, and an old castle
inhabited by his ancestors. The young laird entertained us very
liberally; he is heir, perhaps, to three hundred square miles of land,
which, at ten shillings an acre, would bring him ninety-six thousand
pounds a year. He is desirous of improving the agriculture of his
country; and, in imitation of the czar, travelled for improvement, and
worked, with his own hands, upon a farm in Hertfordshire, in the
neighbourhood of your uncle, sir Thomas Salusbury. He talks of doing
useful things, and has introduced turnips for winter fodder. He has made
a small essay towards a road.

Col is but a barren place. Description has here few opportunities of
spreading her colours. The difference of day and night is the only
vicissitude. The succession of sunshine to rain, or of calms to
tempests, we have not known; wind and rain have been our only weather.

At last, after about nine days, we hired a sloop; and having lain in it
all night, with such accommodations as these miserable vessels can
afford, were landed yesterday on the isle of Mull; from which we expect
an easy passage into Scotland. I am sick in a ship, but recover by lying
down.

I have not good health; I do not find that travelling much helps me. My
nights are flatulent, though not in the utmost degree, and I have a
weakness in my knees, which makes me very unable to walk. Pray, dear
madam, let me have a long letter. I am, &c.

XXVI.--To MRS. THRALE.

Inverary, Oct. 24, 1773.

HONOURED MISTRESS,--My last letters to you, and my dear master, were
written from Mull, the third island of the Hebrides in extent. There is
no post, and I took the opportunity of a gentleman's passage to the
mainland.

In Mull we were confined two days by the weather; on the third we got on
horseback, and, after a journey, difficult and tedious, over rocks
naked, and valley