528 Annals of the Carnegie Museum. 



An hour's run in a rising sea brought us to Green Island, once 

 Strontian. We anchored in its lee and went ashore in the "dinky," 

 a craft admirable for towing but something of a mistake for purposes 

 of navigation. Landing, we entered almost immediately upon a 

 paradise of snails. A slow rain was falling and the animals were 

 making the most of it. They were everywhere — on timbers, weeds, 

 in the grass, among the roots of trees, even on the concrete walk 

 which led from the boat-house to the light. One could scarcely walk 

 without treading on them. In one tangle of decaying weeds scores 

 were taken. I collected about three hundred specimens, Mr. Walker 

 as many, and Mr. Clapp many more. It was all a matter of reaching 

 the point of satiation. There was no need to get off the "avenue" 

 through which the walk ran. That there were so many here, while 

 at West Sister there were so few, may be explained by the fact that 

 on Green Island the chickens were confined, and there were apparently 

 no cattle to clean out the underbrush. 



In the afternoon we hurried on to Middle Island, confident of making 

 another big haul. But we were booked for disappointment. Middle 

 Island, belonging to Ontario, has a lighthouse, chickens, and turkeys. 

 The snails, what there were of them, had to be cjuarried for. Most 

 of them were under flat rocks on the north shore. The weather was 

 steamy, the May-flies a nuisance. 



The next day we came upon the rival of the Green Island snailery. 

 It was Middle Sister Island, lying in Canadian waters at the western 

 extreme of this island group. For a collecting receptacle, Mr. Clapp 

 had chosen one of those cylindrical cans in which certain brands of 

 biscuits are packed, declaring in advance that, in event of abundance- 

 he would be temperate. But the can was soon filled and he was glad 

 to borrow a bag. The snails were plentiful on low as well as on high 

 ground, in the thick woods, and in the weeds within reach of the 

 wash of northwest storms. They seemed particularly partial to the 

 Herb Robert (Geranium Robertianum), a plant about ankle-high and 

 very pungent when broken or bruised. The island has never been 

 inhabited by man, except for short periods, in which professional fisher- 

 men assumed squatter rights. Fortunately for collectors they brought 

 with them no chickens, at least living ones. 



At noon we turned eastward again and made a landing on North 

 Harbor Island. It was a rooker}- for terns, and it was necessary to 

 watch every step to avoid treading on eggs and nestlings. The haul 



