As it is, the Islanders are obliged to content themselves with
succedaneous means for many common purposes. I have seen the chief
man of a very wide district riding with a halter for a bridle, and
governing his hobby with a wooden curb.
The people of Col, however, do not want dexterity to supply some of
their necessities. Several arts which make trades, and demand
apprenticeships in great cities, are here the practices of daily
economy. In every house candles are made, both moulded and dipped.
Their wicks are small shreds of linen cloth. They all know how to
extract from the Cuddy, oil for their lamps. They all tan skins,
and make brogues.
As we travelled through Sky, we saw many cottages, but they very
frequently stood single on the naked ground. In Col, where the
hills opened a place convenient for habitation, we found a petty
village, of which every hut had a little garden adjoining; thus
they made an appearance of social commerce and mutual offices, and
of some attention to convenience and future supply. There is not
in the Western Islands any collection of buildings that can make
pretensions to be called a town, except in the Isle of Lewis, which
I have not seen.
If Lewis is distinguished by a town, Col has also something
peculiar. The young Laird has attempted what no Islander perhaps
ever thought on. He has begun a road capable of a wheel-carriage.
He has carried it about a mile, and will continue it by annual
elongation from his house to the harbour.
Of taxes here is no reason for complaining; they are paid by a very
easy composition. The malt-tax for Col is twenty shillings.
Whisky is very plentiful: there are several stills in the Island,
and more is made than the inhabitants consume.
The great business of insular policy is now to keep the people in
their own country. As the world has been let in upon them, they
have heard of happier climates, and less arbitrary government; and
if they are disgusted, have emissaries among them ready to offer
them land and houses, as a reward for deserting their Chief and
clan. Many have departed both from the main of Scotland, and from
the Islands; and all that go may be considered as subjects lost to
the British crown; for a nation scattered in the boundless regions
of America resembles rays diverging from a focus. All the rays
remain, but the heat is gone. Their power consisted in their
concentration: when they are dispersed, they have no effect.
It may be thought that they are happier by the change; but they are
not happy as a nation, for they are a nation no longer.
