2116 The Zoologist— May, 1870. 



or lazoibills are hit very hard on the sternum or breast-bone they are 

 not injuied, but a very shght hit on the head stuns them at once. 



Having procured several birds, we descend the moors, just as the 

 pelting rain again comes on, shrouding the sea in mist, curling up the 

 precipice, wreathing round us, as we scramble down the steep hill- 

 side to the huts far below. The birds arc plucked, boiled, and the 

 flesh gnawed off by the men, but is not much relished by us, as it is 

 tough, red and fishy-tasted : the eggs when fresh are delicious, those 

 of the razorbill and guillemot having a rich orange yelk, and the white 

 of a semitransparent opal colour. 



The wind having moderated a little, we run down one of the boats, 

 and launch her with great difficulty, owing to the heavy sea; then 

 with six sturdy rowers we rise over the huge waves, which roll into 

 the sheltered bay. Directly we get out of shelter the wind catches us 

 with such tremendous force that vve can hardly hold the oars. I pull 

 stroke-oar, and straining every nerve, we force the boat inch by inch 

 against the wind, which beats down upon us with solid irresistible 

 force. Ou among the terrible current as it surges up around us, we 

 get wet and wear}-, but manfully sticking at it for more than an hour, 

 we get under the Shelter Rock. The gannets swoop and glide among 

 the waves, and the rock birds fly and tumble and dive among the 

 surf, unmindful of the wind. We jump ashore on the celebrated 

 Barra Head with feelings of thankfulness. 



Bernera, or Barra Head, is the last and most southerly island of the 

 stormy Outer Hebrides; a gigantic rock, low at the north-east end, 

 rising higher and higher, till facing the Atlantic, it dips suddenly 

 down, as if awe-struck at the mighty ocean, in a terrible precipice, on 

 the brow of which the white lighthouse stands, calmly shedding its 

 intermittent light across the angry waste of waters — a light which, 

 flashing and waning, like many a Christian's light, is often obscured 

 when most direfully wanted. In the storm, when the air grows thick 

 with vapour, clouds wrap around it, hiding its wasted light, for which 

 eager eyes strain in vain. A trudge of a mile up the steep ascent, and 

 we reach the Ibrtress-like buildings with the white cross over the 

 door, erected to propitiate the Catholic islanders. And now, furnished 

 with letters from the Commissioners, we are most heartily received, 

 and in the clean and comfortable rooms of the lightkeepers vve talk 

 over our plans for descending the precipice, and eagerly long for 

 to-morrow's dawn. 



