IN’ THE’ SHETLANDS 1gI 
have some sort of breakfast—all in huge discomfort 
—takes time. Biscuits and cheese in my pockets 
serve me for the day, but rain and mist may drive 
me in, and something for a supper one must have. 
Oh the time that goes in waste of time, when one has 
to cook for one’s self! And the washing first, at inter- 
vals—for I leave everything dirty as long as I can, 
that is my system—is worse still, much the worst. 
I thought, at first, 1 would only use one plate, and 
never wash it, but I had to give that up. How I do 
hate the washing! Oh, if there are meals in heaven, 
and I get there,I hope Mrs. Brodby may get there 
too | 
This morning I heard a great noise of skuas—the 
smaller kind—and, coming out, saw a crowd of them 
chasing four ravens that were passing over the ness. 
I had previously seen them thus mobbing one. The 
ravens sometimes uttered an annoyed croak, and gave 
a twist round as though to defend themselves, but 
whether they were ever seriously attacked or pecked 
at I cannot say. The cries of the skuas, on this occa- 
sion, were different from their ordinary one, though 
the general tone and character was there. 
On my island there were no ravens. Either the 
pair that bred there two years ago had hatched out 
another brood, and they had then all left the island 
together, or else, in spite of all Mr. Hoseason’s efforts, 
they have been driven away by persecution—perhaps 
killed. A general raven battue is now in progress 
throughout the Shetlands, every landowner being 
