'One day as King Alexander III. was hunting in the woods which anciently covered the country near Kinghorn, and of which, in the names of different places, some memorial is still preserved, Thomas the Rhymer met him. The king's highness was riding on a skeigh horse, ill to bridle and perilous to guide, and Thomas said to him: "I redde you, sir, beware of that horse, for he'll be your death." "That he ne'er shall," cried the king, and louping off the saddle-tree, he commanded the gavalling horse to be slain on the spot, and laughed, when the deed was done, at the seer's prophecy. It came to pass, however, that exactly at the end of a twelvemonth and a day, the king was again hunting near the same spot, and the horse he was upon, seeing the white bones of the one that had been so unrighteously put to death, standing up ragged in his way, like the grinning and gumless teeth of death, boggled at them, and fled beyond the power of curb or rein, snorting and terrified, to the cliff, over which he sprang with the king, whose neck was broken by the fall, as is recorded in the vernacular chronicles of the time. 'Few, indeed, are the prognostications of Thomas the Rhymer that have not been fulfilled, and happy it is for Scotland that the number of his outstanding prophecies are now drawing to an end. The last fulfilled happened in our own time. In the days of antiquity, Thomas said that "When the Forth and Clyde shall meet, Now, no man in those days could have said that this was not rank nonsense; for how could two rivers, one running east and another running west, and high hills between their heads, ever forgather? But we have seen it come to pass. The Forth and Clyde Canal has married them, and no sooner was that done than came on the war against the French revolution, by which poor auld Scotland, "my respected mither," has had mair than sufficient cause to utter her plaints.' A FAMILY OF CRUSOES. Ir may not be generally known to the people of Scotland, that within the verge of this northern kingdom there exists, or very lately existed, a family of human beings in an almost desert island, removed out of sight of land, and holding communication with the rest of their species but twice in the twelve months. The name of this desolate isle is Rona, or more correctly North Rona, and is situated in the Northern Ocean, at the distance of sixteen leagues west from the Butt of Lewis, one of the largest of the Hebridean Isles. This island, which measures about a mile in length, and half a mile in breadth, where widest, has been rarely visited either by ships or travellers, and has been the subject of a variety of fanciful descriptions. It might have remained much longer in this almost undiscovered' condition, had it not been visited a few years ago by Dr John Macculloch, who made it the object of one of his mineralogical excursions, and who has presented us with a description of the island and its inhabitants. The doctor, it seems, found great difficulty in landing, in consequence of the most accessible point being the face of a precipitous cliff, fifty or sixty feet in height. The disembarkation of himself and boat's crew did not pass unobserved by the chief inhabitant, who, like his prototype Robinson Crusoe, in spying the landing of the savages, took care to keep aloof from the strangers; and who, on their surmounting the cliff, fairly took to his heels. Being, however, brought to by means of a well-directed blast of Gaelic, sent after him by one of the boatmen, and his friendship purchased by a roll of tobacco, the doctor found himself at liberty to inspect the territory in all its parts, and to extract an account of the mode of living of the single family by which it was tenanted. The southern cliffs,' says he, 'range from thirty to sixty feet in height, running out into flat ledges at the western extremity; but on the north side they reach to 500 feet, and present a formidable aspect, whitened by the tremendous breach of the sea as it rolls on from the northward. Here, among other openings, there is an immense cave, with a wide aperture, into which the waves break with the noise of thunder. Over a large space, the whole ground, at an elevation of 200 feet, is washed away to the bare foundation; large masses of rock being frequently thrown up, and carried high along the level land, as if they were mere pebbles on a sea-beach. Rona can be no peaceful solitude, when the half of it is thus under water, and the solid dash then made against it must cover the whole, in gales of wind, with a continual shower of spray. From the lower western angle, the land rises with a gentle and even swell towards the north and east; but having no inequality of ground to afford the least shelter, it is necessarily swept by every blast. The surface is, nevertheless, green, and everywhere covered with a beautiful compact turf, except where broken up for cultivation, for the space of a few acres in the middle and elevated part. The highest point is near the north-eastern end; and hence, in clear weather, the lofty hills of Sutherland are visible in the horizon. It is the total seclusion of Rona from all the concerns of the world, which confers on it that intense character of solitude with which it seemed to impress us all. No ship approaches in sight, and seldom is land seen from it. A feeling of hope never leaves the vessel while she can float, and while there is a possibility of return to society; but Rona is forgotten, unknown, for ever fixed immovable in the dreary and waste ocean. There was at one period, according to doubtful tradition, a chapel in the island dedicated to St Ronan, the patron saint of seals, which was fenced by a stone-wall, but of this there are now no remains. Whatever was the number of families once resident-and it is said there were always five-there is now but one. The tenant is a cotter, as he cultivates the farm on his employer's account. There seem to have been six or seven acres cultivated in barley, oats, and potatoes, but the grain was now housed. The soil is good, and the produce appeared to have been abundant. The family is permitted to consume as much as they please; and it was stated that the average surplus paid to the tacksman amounted to eight bolls of barley. În addition to that, he is bound to find an annual supply of eight stones of feathers, the produce of the gannets. Besides all this, the island maintains fifty small sheep. The wool of these is of course reserved for the tacksman; but as far as we could discover, the tenant was as unrestricted in the use of mutton as in that of grain and potatoes. Twice in the year, that part of the produce which is reserved is thus taken away, and in this manner is maintained all the communication which North Rona has with the external world. The return for all these services, in addition to his food and that of his family, is the large sum of L.2 a year. But this is paid in clothes, not in money; and as there were six individuals to clothe, it is easy to apprehend they did not abound in covering. I must add to this, however, the use of a cow, which was brought from Lewis when in milk, and changed when unserviceable. From the milk of his ewes, the tenant contrives to make cheeses resembling those for which St Kilda is so celebrated. There is no peat in the island, but its place is well enough supplied by turf. During the long discussions whence all this knowledge was procured, I had not observed that our conference was held on the top of the house, roof it could not be called. It being impossible for walls to resist the winds of this boisterous region, the house is excavated in the earth, as if it were the work of the Greenlanders. What there is of wall rises for a foot or two above the surrounding irregular surface, and the adjacent stacks of turf help to ward off the violence of the gales. The flat roof is a solid mass of turf and straw, the smoke issuing out of an aperture near the side of the habitation. The very entrance seemed to have been contrived for concealment or defence, and it could not be perceived till pointed out. This is an irre and gular hole, about four feet high, surrounded by turf; on entering it, with some precaution, we found a long tortuous passage, somewhat resembling the gallery of a mine, but without a door, which conducted us into the penetralia of the cavern. The interior resembled the prints which we have seen of a Kamtschatkan hut. Over the embers of a turf-fire sat the ancient grandmother nursing an infant, which was nearly naked. From the rafters hung festoons of dried fish; but scarcely an article of furniture was to be seen, and there was no light but that which came through the smoke-hole. There was a sort of platform, or dais, on which the fire was raised, where the old womah and her charge sat; and one or two niches, excavated laterally in the ground, and laid with ashes, seemed to be the only bed-places. Why these were not furnished with straw I know not; and of blankets, the provision was as scanty as that of the clothes; possibly, ashes may make a better and softer bed than straw; but it is far more likely that this insular family could not be forced to make themselves more comfortable. This was certainly a variety in human life worth studying. Everything appeared wretched enough a smoky subterranean cavern; rain and storm; a deaf octogenarian grandmother; the wife and children half naked; and to add to all this, solitude, and a prison from which there was no escape. Yet the family were well fed, seemed contented, and expressed little concern as to what the rest of the world was doing. To tend the sheep, and house the winter firing; to dig the ground, and reap the harvests in their seasons; to hunt wildfowl and catch fish; to fetch water from the pools, keep up the fire, and rock the child to sleep on their knees, seemed occupation enough, and the society of the family itself, society enough. The women and children, indeed, had probably never extended their notions of a world much beyond the precincts of North Rona; the chief himself seemed to have few cares or wishes that did not centre in it; his only desire being to go to Lewis to christen his infant-a wish in another year he could have : |