A Journey to the Western Isles of Scotland | Page 3

Samuel Johnson
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This etext was prepared by David Price, email [email protected]
from the 1775 edition with the corrections noted in the 1785 errata.

A JOURNEY TO THE WESTERN ISLANDS OF SCOTLAND

INCH KEITH

I had desired to visit the Hebrides, or Western Islands of Scotland, so
long, that I scarcely remember how the wish was originally excited;
and was in the Autumn of the year 1773 induced to undertake the
journey, by finding in Mr. Boswell a companion, whose acuteness
would help my inquiry, and whose gaiety of conversation and civility
of manners are sufficient to counteract the inconveniences of travel, in
countries less hospitable than we have passed.
On the eighteenth of August we left Edinburgh, a city too well known
to admit description, and directed our course northward, along the
eastern coast of Scotland, accompanied the first day by another
gentleman, who could stay with us only long enough to shew us how
much we lost at separation.
As we crossed the Frith of Forth, our curiosity was attracted by Inch
Keith, a small island, which neither of my companions had ever visited,
though, lying within their view, it had all their lives solicited their
notice. Here, by climbing with some difficulty over shattered crags, we
made the first experiment of unfrequented coasts. Inch Keith is nothing
more than a rock covered with a thin layer of earth, not wholly bare of
grass, and very fertile of thistles. A small herd of cows grazes annually
upon it in the summer. It seems never to have afforded to man or beast
a permanent habitation.
We found only the ruins of a small fort, not so injured by time but that
it might be easily restored to its former state. It seems never to have
been intended as a place of strength, nor was built to endure a siege, but

merely to afford cover to a few soldiers, who perhaps had the charge of
a battery, or were stationed to give signals of approaching danger.
There is therefore no provision of water within the walls, though the
spring is so near, that it might have been easily enclosed. One of the
stones had this inscription: 'Maria Reg. 1564.' It has probably been
neglected from the time that the whole island had the same king.
We left this little island with our thoughts employed awhile on the
different appearance that it would have made, if it had been placed at
the same distance from London, with the same facility of approach;
with what emulation of price a few rocky acres would have been
purchased, and with what expensive industry they would have been
cultivated and adorned.
When we landed, we
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