1895.] 7 



the porpoises in the water, and countless wild fowl sitting on the 

 treacherous-looking rocks or circling in the air, all contributed to the 

 charm of a scene not easily to be forgotten. Having taken nine hours 

 to accomplish a journey that, but for the various diversions, covers a 

 distance of only forty-five miles, we steamed into Balta Sound, Unst, 

 about 6.30 p.m. 



Determined not to lose even one fine evening, we hastened to the 

 cottage where rooms had been reserved for us, dined, and were on our 

 way soon after eight o'clock to the somewhat distant collecting ground, 

 courteously described by Mr. Salvage as the most productive. A walk 

 of two and a half miles, and a boat for another three, brought us near 

 the desired goal. Although fortified with the best of spirits — I mean 

 the highest expectations— and a most seductive mixture of sugar, the 

 fates were against us, and the weather as hopelessly fine as it had been 

 wet in Sutherlandshire. Clear and cold, with a heavy dew, and so 

 light that you could read a newspaper at any time, the mile or more 

 of palings that we sugared at an elevation of from 300 — 400 feet 

 yielded very little. The time of year was right, also the locality, as 

 was indicated by the ground being grey with the reindeer moss, in 

 which Crymodes exulis is said to tunnel and hibernate in the winter, 

 yet all we took was one fine specimen of Mamestra furva, one or two 

 Agrotis strigula (porphyrea), a worn Noctua conjlua, whilst a few dark 

 forms of Larentia ccesiafa were netted as they flew to our light. 

 Despite the grumblings of the youth (unaccustomed to such late 

 hours) who rowed us, we persevered with praiseworthy pertinacity 

 till the rapidly increasing light warned us that any further effort was 

 useless. We returned to our boat somewhat crestfallen, but glad to 

 rest and to recover our great coats, for it was bitterly cold. The scene 

 was very romantic. To the north, Saxaford and other hills stood out 

 in hard black outline against the sky, already red and golden with the 

 approaching dawn. The waning moon and a few bright stars relieved 

 the deep blue to the south. All was perfect stillness, broken only by 

 the splashing of our oars, until we suddenly disturbed a colony of 

 Herring and other gulls asleep on the water which soon rent the 

 air with their cries as they circled wildly above us. 



When quitting the boat (it was 2 a.m. on Saturday, July 21st), 

 we informed the youth that his services might be again required at 

 night, but having had enough ''fly catching "for the moment, he came 

 to the conclusion that it would be " too near the Sabbath." Keaching 

 our cottage about sunrise, thoroughly tired, it was 1 p.m. before we 

 were again prepared for another start. Whilst going to the Post 



