from http://www.scottishradiance.com/bookreviews/beck.htm
The Hills is Lonely
by Lillian Beckwith
When Lillian Beckwith, a middle-aged teacher in a smoky north of England town, was ordered by her doctor to take a complete rest somewhere in the country, she advertised in a suitable magazine. Among many tempting offers came this letter from a Hebridean crofter:
Dear Madam,
Its just now I saw your advert when I got the book for the knitting pattern I wanted from my cousin Catriona. I am sorry I did not write sooner if you are fixed up if you are not in any way fixed up I have a good good stone house and tiles and my brother Ruari who will wash down with lime twice every year. Ruari is married and lives just by. She is not damp. I live by myself and you could have the room that is not a kitchen and a bedroom reasonable. I was in the kitchen of the lairds house till lately when he was changed God rest his soul the poor old gentleman. that he was. You would be very welcomed. I have a cow also for milk and eggs and the minister at the manse will be referee if you wish such.
Yours affectionately,
MORAG McDUGAN
P.S. She is not thatched.
