FOREWARD

Eilean-nan-Ron* - there is magic in the name of it. There was kindness there and a welcoming. The visitor, whether on business or pleasure bent, had to call at every house; thereafter young and old conveyed the guest to the top of the almost perpendicular stairway leading to the jetty, and they parted with a blessing. They lived, those folk, near to the sea and close to their God. Some left for the Dominions early in the century. Today a few of the older folk live within sight of the Island; many of the younger have fared forth southwards. Wherever they are, their thoughts must oft return to their beloved rock-girt isle where soothing waves whisper in the calm, and where in the storm the caves resound with the pounding breakers. John George Mackay, a true son of the Island, has, in his semi-retirement, successfully accomplished the task he set himself to pass the winter evenings - the writing of this little saga. It will bring back a treasure of memories to the exile and to the chance reader it will afford a good deal of pleasure.

*Eilean-nan-Ron is Gaelic for 'Island of Seals'

Eilean nan Ron, Eilean nan Ron,

Eilean a's aillte dhomh 'n diugh fo na neoil;

'Se bhi fagail thu falamh d' fhag mo chridhe fo leon;

O is duilich leam 'nis bhi 'gad fhagail.

Donald Macleod M.A., F.S.A., Scot. Schoolhouse, Bettyhill - 12th of October, 1962