XVII. 



Iona, 27 th January 1853. 



For many weeks the weather has been so boisterous and wet 

 as to be very unfavourable for out-of-door recreations of any 

 kind, shooting among the rest. These very violent gales sweep 

 away the birds from our island to the better shelter afforded by 

 the mainland ; consequently I find game very scarce at present. 

 The continual open soft weather and absence of frost is still more 

 unfavourable, and the Ducks, Geese, Plover, &c, seem little 

 inclined to direct annual pilgrimages towards Columba's sacred 

 shores. 



Some of the late gales have been exceedingly grand. The 

 dreadful fury of the wind is not to be described. The sea, run- 

 ning mountains high, threatens to overwhelm the island with its 

 roaring breakers. The very granite cliffs seem to tremble under 

 the ponderous strokes of these liquid mountains, as they come 

 rolling on, crashing into foam, and yeast, and hissing spray with 

 hideous din, filling the air with thick salt vapour, which, caught 

 up by the blast, is borne away far inland in dense wreathing 

 columns, like the smoke from a battlefield. This is truly the war 

 of elements. Ocean, contending for dominion over terra firm a, 

 pours forth, rank upon rank, its innumerable host of high-bounding 

 white-maned chargers. See the turmoil, the furious strife, the 

 maddening confusion ! Hear the hoarse shoutings of the leaders ! 

 The hurricane sounds on the charge. The hail pours down its 



