But if his good fortune brings him to the residence of
a gentleman, he will be glad of a storm to prolong his stay. There
is, however, one inn by the sea-side at Sconsor, in Sky, where the
post-office is kept.
At the tables where a stranger is received, neither plenty nor
delicacy is wanting. A tract of land so thinly inhabited, must
have much wild-fowl; and I scarcely remember to have seen a dinner
without them. The moorgame is every where to be had. That the sea
abounds with fish, needs not be told, for it supplies a great part
of Europe. The Isle of Sky has stags and roebucks, but no hares.
They sell very numerous droves of oxen yearly to England, and
therefore cannot be supposed to want beef at home. Sheep and goats
are in great numbers, and they have the common domestick fowls.
But as here is nothing to be bought, every family must kill its own
meat, and roast part of it somewhat sooner than Apicius would
prescribe. Every kind of flesh is undoubtedly excelled by the
variety and emulation of English markets; but that which is not
best may be yet very far from bad, and he that shall complain of
his fare in the Hebrides, has improved his delicacy more than his
manhood.
Their fowls are not like those plumped for sale by the poulterers
of London, but they are as good as other places commonly afford,
except that the geese, by feeding in the sea, have universally a
fishy rankness.
These geese seem to be of a middle race, between the wild and
domestick kinds. They are so tame as to own a home, and so wild as
sometimes to fly quite away.
Their native bread is made of oats, or barley. Of oatmeal they
spread very thin cakes, coarse and hard, to which unaccustomed
palates are not easily reconciled. The barley cakes are thicker
and softer; I began to eat them without unwillingness; the
blackness of their colour raises some dislike, but the taste is not
disagreeable. In most houses there is wheat flower, with which we
were sure to be treated, if we staid long enough to have it kneaded
and baked. As neither yeast nor leaven are used among them, their
bread of every kind is unfermented. They make only cakes, and
never mould a loaf.
A man of the Hebrides, for of the women's diet I can give no
account, as soon as he appears in the morning, swallows a glass of
whisky; yet they are not a drunken race, at least I never was
present at much intemperance; but no man is so abstemious as to
refuse the morning dram, which they call a skalk.
The word whisky signifies water, and is applied by way of eminence
to strong water, or distilled liquor. The spirit drunk in the
North is drawn from barley. I never tasted it, except once for
experiment at the inn in Inverary, when I thought it preferable to
any English malt brandy. It was strong, but not pungent, and was
free from the empyreumatick taste or smell. What was the process I
had no opportunity of inquiring, nor do I wish to improve the art
of making poison pleasant.
Not long after the dram, may be expected the breakfast, a meal in
which the Scots, whether of the lowlands or mountains, must be
confessed to excel us. The tea and coffee are accompanied not only
with butter, but with honey, conserves, and marmalades. If an
epicure could remove by a wish, in quest of sensual gratifications,
wherever he had supped he would breakfast in Scotland.
In the islands however, they do what I found it not very easy to
endure. They pollute the tea-table by plates piled with large
slices of cheshire cheese, which mingles its less grateful odours
with the fragrance of the tea.
Where many questions are to be asked, some will be omitted. I
forgot to inquire how they were supplied with so much exotic
luxury. Perhaps the French may bring them wine for wool, and the
Dutch give them tea and coffee at the fishing season, in exchange
for fresh provision. Their trade is unconstrained; they pay no
customs, for there is no officer to demand them; whatever therefore
is made dear only by impost, is obtained here at an easy rate.
A dinner in the Western Islands differs very little from a dinner
in England, except that in the place of tarts, there are always set
different preparations of milk. This part of their diet will admit
some improvement. Though they have milk, and eggs, and sugar, few
of them know how to compound them in a custard. Their gardens
afford them no great variety, but they have always some vegetables
on the table. Potatoes at least are never wanting, which, though
they have not known them long, are now one of the principal parts
of their food. They are not of the mealy, but the viscous kind.
Their more elaborate cookery, or made dishes, an Englishman at the
first taste is not likely to approve, but the culinary compositions
of every country are often such as become grateful to other nations
only by degrees; though I have read a French author, who, in the
elation of his heart, says, that French cookery pleases all
foreigners, but foreign cookery never satisfies a Frenchman.
Their suppers are, like their dinners, various and plentiful. The
table is always covered with elegant linen. Their plates for
common use are often of that kind of manufacture which is called
cream coloured, or queen's ware. They use silver on all occasions
where it is common in England, nor did I ever find the spoon of
horn, but in one house.
