8 WITH NATURE AND A CAMERA. 



By-and-by a boat put off and came alongside. 

 I was particularly anxious to hear the first words 

 of salutation from men who, though actually living 

 within the confines of the British Isles, are in reality 

 more out of touch with their country than the natives 

 of Vancouver Island or Timbuctoo. As I could not 

 get on deck in time, I popped my head out of a 

 port-hole, and was startled to hear the minister wish 

 everybody "A happy new year." 



When we got ashore, we found most of the 

 women and children had come down to the place 

 of landing with great checked handkerchiefs full of 

 birds' eggs, chiefly those of Guillemots and Razorbills, 

 for which they found a ready sale at a penny a 

 piece amongst the passengers and crew. 



The first two things which struck me upon land- 

 ing at St. Kilda were the apparent dearth of sea- 

 bird life and the joyous songs of the Wrens. 



We climbed to the empty cottage in which we 

 were to stay, and after sweeping out the plaster 

 that had fallen off the walls during the preceding 

 twelve months and lighting a fire on a grateless 

 hearth, we began to set things to rights. The 

 place being half buried in the base of a steep hill 

 called Oisaval was fearfully damp, and when my 

 brother, with the instinct of the photographer, com- 

 menced to prowl round in search of a " dark" room, 

 the boards were in such a rotten condition on the 

 ground floor that he fell through. 



After tea we walked down to the beach to 

 watch the natives bring their provisions ashore. The 

 men conveyed the bags of meal and flour from the 

 steamer to the rocks in their boat, whilst the women 

 performed the far more arduous task of carrying 

 them on their backs up the steep path to the 

 cottages. 



