Wanderings of a Naturalist 



rose from the grey waters. Tiree and its hills were dark 

 and clear, and even beyond Tiree the smoke of a steamer was 

 distinct. All the sea birds of Mingulay revelled in the calm 

 air of this isolated day of summer, and it was good to sit 

 and watch them at their family duties. But with afternoon 

 an ominous ring encircled the sun, and before night a fresh- 

 ening southerly breeze and falling glass foretold of more 

 unsettled weather to come. The remaining days of our stay 

 were gloomy and misty, and on August 9, the day on which 

 we left Mingulay, a north-westerly wind, with winter in its 

 breath, was sweeping the cliffs and once more bringing in 

 the great seas, which are rarely quiet about this remote 

 Atlantic island. 



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