of Dusk. 



The sweet, the white water-lily, and the ' lusavone ' 

 Coming (? Lus-Mhonaidh . . . ? Bog-cotton). The 

 three stones were, I think, granite, basalt, and 

 trap, though I am uncertain about the second 

 and still more so about the third, which was 

 called clach-liath, ' the grey stone.' 



But though in the north the nightingale is 

 no longer a haunter of the dusk, the other 

 clans of the night are to be met with every- 

 where, 'from the Rhinns of Islay to the Ord 

 of Sutherland' as the Highland saying goes 

 in place of the wider 'from Land's End to 

 John o' Groats.' First and foremost is the 

 owl. But of the owl and the nightjar and 

 the midsummer night I wish to speak in a 

 succeeding paper. The corncrake will next 

 occur to mind. 



The cry of the landrail is so like its popular 

 name that one cannot mistake it. Some 

 naturalists say the resemblance to the croak- 

 ing of the frog may mislead the unwary, 

 but there is an altogether different musical 

 beat or emphasis in the call of the rail, a 

 different quality of sound, a different energy ; 

 and it is difficult to understand how any ear 

 familiar with nocturnal sounds could err in 

 detecting the monotonously uniform krex-krex 

 of the bull -frog from the large, air-swimming, 

 harshly musical crek-crake, with the singular 



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