LETTER XXIV. 177 



by their legs, bringing them ashore alive. Here they are put 

 into a dark hut made of wattles and bushes, with an inch or two 

 of water always running through it, where they are fattened and 

 killed as wanted. The darkness takes away their wildness, and 

 prevents them flapping themselves to death in attempting to 

 escape. The calabash story is of course well known ; but I 

 always misdoubted it before. 



I make an annual visit to Iona and the parts of Mull I used 

 to frequent, where I never fail to get plenty of all the ordinary 

 kinds of sea fowl. Last spring I went earlier than usual, and got 

 a pair of Grey Geese. I observed a number of the small black 

 Skua, which used to be very seldom seen about the Staffa Islands. 

 On these occasions I take a hamper, which I fill with Scarts, or 

 anything which comes to hand, just before starting home. I had 

 to sail some seven miles in an open boat to overtake the steamer 

 (not the regular summer boat). The water was studded with 

 Scarts, but as it was blowing very fresh at the time it was only 

 possible to shoot those which were right ahead, and pick them up 

 as the boat rushed past ; yet with this difficulty I and the sur- 

 veying friend I mentioned before (Mr Colin M'Vean) bagged 

 thirteen. I am extremely partial to scart soup ; it is identical 

 with hare soup. I mention this because in a recent number of 

 the Times newspaper there is a very favourable review of a most 

 charming book on Normandy, by a Scotch gentleman residing 

 there, in the style of White's Natural History of Sdbournc (a 

 lady in Canada asked me if I had ever read Mr Selbourne's 

 " History of the Isle of Wight " !); but the reviewer, though agree- 

 ing with the author in everything else, protests against some of his 



